


Second Chances

by missameliep



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Choices - Fandom, Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 66,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missameliep/pseuds/missameliep
Summary: After the death of her mother, Elizabeth Foredale leaves her home in Rio, Brazil, and the life she's known so far to join her father in London, England. That's just the beginning of a new and exciting chapter of her life.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> * Mentions to illness and death.  
* All the phrases in Portuguese are translated at the notes in the end.  
* Most characters belong to PixelBerry Studios.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of her mother, Elizabeth Foredale leaves her home in Rio, Brazil, and the life she's known so far to join her father in London, England. That's just the beginning of a new and exciting chapter of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Mentions to illness and death.  
* All the phrases in Portuguese are translated at the notes in the end.  
* Most characters belong to PixelBerry Studios.

With a click Elizabeth closed the door to the empty apartment and to many chapters of her life. With a half-hearted smile to the blond young woman at her side, she put the keys on her backpack pocket. The walk to the lift was punctuated solely by the sounds of the rolling wheels of the suitcase and their footsteps.

A silent ride down, like never before. They shared a look, but not a word about College or boys or the beach, a passion they both shared. The air heavy with what was left unsaid. But would any language express properly all that means saying goodbye to your childhood friend?

Either way, they knew how the other’s absence would hurt. They held hands and marched together the last metres.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the yellow taxi parked outside the building in Copacabana, where Elizabeth has lived for the past twelve years.

Taking a last look at the ten-store building, she waved to the doorman, receiving in exchange warm wishes of a safe trip, and stepped on the pavement pulling her suitcase. A lump growing on her throat with each step.

Her best friend Renata, with glistening eyes, embraced her one last time. Both struggling to keep the promise not to cry.

“Vê lá se vai ficar metida com seu pai da realeza e esquecer de mim!”¹

“Jamais, garota! Nem que meu pai fosse da realeza mesmo!”² she giggled, “Se eu pudesse, levava você na mala…”³

Holding each other tighter, she heard the loud exhale and felt her friend’s shoulders slump. Elizabeth stroked her arm and placed a kiss on her cheek. They were friends since first grade and saying goodbye wasn’t easy.

“Se cuide, querida!”4

“Você também! Boa viagem, Liz! Avise quando chegar.”5

Blowing a kiss, she sat on the back of the car. Through the windows she saw her friend, her home and everything that was familiar staying behind. A last glance at the Corcovado with the Cristo Redentor on its peak, with arms wide open over the city, before entering the darkness of the tunnel.

**********

“Chegamos. Terminal 2.”6 the driver’s head jerked back as he repeated and caught Elizabeth’s attention this time. Her mind had drifted with too many thoughts.

Looking outside, the young woman saw the airport and the long line of cars and the many faces coming in and out through the glass doors. The driver stepped out of the car and took the large and heavy grey suitcase from the trunk. She paid for the ride, thanked him and walked away to begin her journey.

With resolute steps she also crossed one of the glass doors and marched besides airline company’s counters, until she halted. Her eyes glued to a large advertise of flights to Paris. The image of the Eiffel Tower prompted her mind to revisit memories from about two years ago, when she and her mother rode in a similar yellow cab to this very same airport towards the City of Lights.

For months during her mother’s chemo sessions, both talked about taking this trip together and how they’d celebrate when the cancer were in remission. That was exactly what they did then as soon as they heard the doctors’ prognosis: five days to plan it all and fly away.

They had an amazing time visiting museums and parks on her mother’s favourite city, where she sang for many years at the most prestigious operas. Embraced and with their cheeks pressed against the other’s, they took a smiling selfie in front of _Opera Garnier_, a stage her mother knew so well from many performances in her successful career. Her mother’s smile was as large as it used to be before the diagnosis three years earlier. Elizabeth mirrored her mother’s smile on the picture, sharing the same happiness and it was fortunate that she didn’t refuse posing for the photo. Now the memento was on her mobile lock screen.

One morning, in between bites of her scrambled eggs, she remembered suggesting they’d go to London. They were so close, and she’s never actually visited the city; it was only an airport on her way to Edgewater Estate to be with her father.

With honeyed voice, she proposed buying the tickets for the next day. A mere two hours train ride away, she said. Needless to say, her seventeen-year-old self secretly dreamed they’d reconcile one day, even after all those years. What a childish thought; she knows now some things are beyond repair.

Fingertips stroking the back of her head under the colourful turban for a moment, her mother contemplated an answer. Elizabeth knew how her mother missed the black curls that used to crown her face and cascade to her shoulders and were shaved once the treatment started. With a frown she simply said no. Her melodious tone that enchanted audiences for many years had been replaced by this foreign hoarse and breathy low voice.

Elizabeth insisted and silence was the only answer as her mother sipped her black coffee and her eyes focused on the people walking on the street. That was the last they spoke about it; and that was also their last trip together.

The sound of laughter behind her startled Elizabeth. Taking a quick look at the pair of teenagers bouncing with arms linked, she resumed walking. London was her destiny this time and this flight she’d take alone.

**********

She checked her suitcase and went through queue after queue until she arrived at the proper gate. The flight was on time, she read on the screen. Sitting for a while facing the windows and the many planes out on the tarmac, she put the earbuds on. Taylor Swift’s voice started singing and her mind racing.

Despite the upbeat melody ringing on her ears, tears streaked down her cheeks. Fingers wiping the unstoppable flow, before she decided on a visit to the toilet.

The cold lights enhanced the dark circles under her eyes causing her to look paler than usual. Or perhaps she was paler. She leaned closer to the mirror and contemplated her own reflexion.

Since her mother died three months prior, sadness and numerous arrangements before leaving the country prevented her feet from touching the white sands of Arpoador beach like they used to. And the sun didn’t kiss her warm beige skin tanning it like it does to so many other girls from Ipanema and Copacabana year-round.

The water soaked her face, almost as cold as the Atlantic’s saltwater she only now considers how much she’ll miss. Even if it’s the same ocean she’ll be across, nothing will be the same. That’s a certainty.

This will be only one of the many things she loves and will stay behind in her hometown. She wiped the water and the remaining tears from her face.

Concealer, base and compact powder applied with dexterity under her eyes, covering the signs of many restless nights. Next, her fingers raked through her hair and she pulled a chocolate brown curl back and tuck it behind her ear. The black tube on her fingers swirled to reveal the baton and a peach colour was carefully added to her lips. At last, the young woman flashed an insincere smile to the mirror before walking away.

At least her exterior could be easier fixed, she thought. What was broken inside her, however, seems much harder to be repaired.

**********

Eleven hours later, the pilot announced they would be reaching London in a few minutes. The dawn of a new day and of a new time for her too. Elizabeth found it strangely poetic.

Smiling, she observed while the aeroplane crossed an ocean of clouds preparing to land and she got glimpses of the city bellow. The Thames winding through the landscape, parting the city in two. Her phone captured a picture to remind her of this moment.

Just a while longer and she’d be reunited with her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. “Vê lá se vai ficar metida com seu pai da realeza e esquecer de mim!” – “You better not become one of those stuck-up girls with your royal father and forget about me!”  
2\. “Jamais, garota! Nem que meu pai fosse da realeza mesmo…” – “Never, girl! Not even if he was from royalty…”  
3\. “Se eu pudesse, levava você comigo na mala…” – “If I could, I’d take you with me in my suitcase…”  
4\. “Se cuide, querida!” – “Take care of yourself, dear!”  
5\. “Você também! Boa viagem, Liz! Avise quando chegar.” – “You too! Have a safe trip, Liz! Let me know when you get there.”  
6\. “Chegamos. Terminal 2.” – “We’re here. Terminal 2.”


	2. Chapter One: The Butterfly Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A succession of events once Elizabeth reached London prompted an unexpected meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The lines and words in Portuguese are translated on the notes in the end.  
* One mild swearing.  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

A silly thought had crawled its way to Elizabeth’s mind during the long flight and the many hours she’s barely slept. Once she reached the arrivals gate at London City Airport, she expected that instead of the driver, her father would be standing there with arms ready to hug her. But he wasn’t. And neither was the driver.

Her eyes searched around for someone with a uniform holding a card with her name. However, amongst the people waiting for their loved ones at the airport, there was no one expecting her.

Frowning, she pulled her phone out of her backpack pocket and wrote a short message to her father telling him she’d arrived in London. An emoji of a face blowing a heart was inserted before she sent it. Her father doesn’t speak emoji, but he would understand this one, she was certain.

Pulling the large and heavy suitcase she wandered, peeking at the phone on her hand from time to time, waiting for an answer, whilst there was no friendly face flashing a sign with her name on it.

Trying to make the waiting more bearable and to help swallow the lump on her throat, she bought a cappuccino and sat down. Drinking it slowly and observing the crowd, she got a text from her father asking if she made a pleasant flight and informing the driver was looking for her. Bolting upright, she scanned the crowd and started typing fast.

…

· Does he have a sign with my name on, dad?

· Certainly

· I don’t see him. Could I be in the wrong place, dad?

· Just a moment, let me check with him.

…

The phone vibrates as it receives an incoming call. A picture of her father smiling pops on the screen.

“Hi, dad!”

“Hello, my darling! I’m terribly sorry. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding…” he paused, “James went to Heathrow.”

“But my flight arrived in London City –”

“I know, Eliza, my darling, and I am sorry. I don’t know how this even happened…” he sighed heavily, “And when I questioned him how long it would take to reach you, he told the GPS informs that an accident caused traffic tailback and it will take him quite some time… Could be an hour.”

“That’s fine, dad. I can just take a cab…”

“But Elizabeth…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yeah. See you soon, dad!”

“See you soon, my darling!”

_Misunderstanding? I bet it was Henrietta’s doing. Won’t she ever get tired of the whole evil stepmother role?_

“Bem-vinda a Londres, Elizabeth!”1 she snorted and rose to her feet.

Throwing the cup in the bin, she pulled the large suitcase behind her and stomped to the exit. A fresh breeze blew her hair when she crossed the threshold.

It was seven o'clock and the sun was struggling to shine through some grey clouds. Meanwhile, the city was awake and bustling. The sound of many indistinct voices, rumble of motors and a distant whistle from a traffic guard welcomed her when she reached the pavement, as well as a long queue of elegantly dressed people with their small suitcases and tourists with various pieces of luggage. In common, every single one of them waiting for one of the few black cars.

With her black leggings, white sneakers, jeans shirt and her mother’s favourite long yellow cardigan, Elizabeth joined them at the far ending, hoping it wouldn’t take much longer to get to her father’s house and shower after the eleven-hour flight and the time spent on both airports.

Behind her, three young women mentioned how it would be quicker to take the tube before heading back inside. Elizabeth stole a look at them and picked her phone. After a quick search, the Underground was also her destination.

A wide smile curled her lips at the opportunity to walk and experience the city as the locals do before she must submit to all the decorum and propriety of her role as the Earl of Edgewater’s daughter.

Ticket in hand, feeling confident, she started her journey. Climbing escalators, queuing behind a mass of people that reminded her of a beehive, stumbling and bumping and apologising along the way, she reached the street.

Elizabeth was excited to start the ten minutes’ walk from Bond Street Station to her father’s house near Grosvenor Square. The address already on the mobile’s GPS, she marched down the street along many pedestrians, shoulders pulled back and feeling taller than her 1,60m. Curious eyes taking all in.

The city as busy as she imagined, and it made the corners of her lips turn up. With each step her heart pounded faster. In a matter of minutes, she’d be home with her father and part of a family. Not the one she’d dreamed about for so long, but still a family.

“Where to now…?” She halted in front of a street sign, squinting her eyes and swivelling her head from side to side, before turning right on the corner.

Stepping into the less crowded secondary street, she spotted the pedestrian crossing ahead; again, she checked on the mobile which way to go.

When the cars stopped at the crossing line, her feet touched the asphalt. Mere three steps until the screeching sound of tires and the glimpse of the black vehicle startled her.

Struck by realisation the light was still green for the cars coming from the main street, Elizabeth only had enough time to leap back on the pavement. White sneakers struggling to find purchase at the ground on the curb, mobile and suitcase escaping the grip of her hands and falling on the street.

The black sedan stopped right before running over her belongings. Suddenly, the door flew open and a tall and lean man dressed in a blue suit stepped out of the vehicle, rushing towards her with a concerned expression.

Elizabeth’s face was drained of all colour and her body was shaking. Even without touching her chest she was conscious of her heart’s every pound.

The man approached her and leaned forward, touching her elbows, and she welcomed his aid and grabbed his arms to steady herself without hesitations or looking up to face him.

“Miss, are you all right?” the stranger asked with an accented baritone voice.

“Yes! I… I’m not hurt, just a… a little shook, I guess.” she stuttered.

“I am relieved you were not hurt. I am terribly sorry, when the driver spotted you, it was too close and –”

“It wasn’t his fault, really… I wasn’t expecting that a car could… I looked to the right… but… I didn’t look at that… the…” she mumbled. One finger over his arm pointing to the traffic lights, mind unable to remember the word and she drew in a deep breath to calm herself.

“I’m sorry.”

“It can be overwhelming. Especially if you’re not used to the left-hand traffic. I am glad you’re alright.”

Still clinging to his arms, bunching the smooth fabric of his sleeves, she looked past him and saw her phone and suitcase scattered on the asphalt.

“I am. Thank you for your concern, sir.” she said, considering the distance her phone flew from her hand until it landed upside down, “Guess my mobile wasn’t so lucky….”

His head turned to the same direction as hers before they both took a few steps and bent down to pick her mobile up. But he was closer and faster and the device with its screen spiderwebbed with cracks now rested in his palm.

Crouching in front of him, her gaze darted from the broken glass up to his face for the first time. When her green eyes met his dark blue ones, the same colour of her favourite lapis-lazuli earrings, she finally saw his friendly expression and his warm bronze skin. At that moment a wide smile curled his lips and she couldn’t look away.

_Wow! He’s so handsome…,_ she thought staring at him with mouth ajar, “…is he a model?”

His gaze lowered from her eyes to the gold glittery mobile with its shattered screen in his palm and he chuckled. The sound of his laughter prompted her to release his arm, which she didn’t even notice she was holding tight again.

“Thanks.” she spoke while her fingers encircled the phone, taking it from his hand.

Elizabeth stood up at once, straightening herself, and took a step back. She examined the mobile for a moment and saw her picture with her mother on the screen, before enthralled her eyes were drawn back to him and her mind was inundated by a flow of thoughts.

_Of course, he’s handsome! I would only stumble in the most-handsome-guy-ever after an eleven-hour flight and looking like a troll! Oh, god! And he thinks I’m an idiot who cannot cross a street! That’s why he’s laughing. Great! He caught me staring. But who looks this good so early in the morning?_

While she looked at him with knitted brows, he picked up her suitcase and rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders and standing taller than before in his perfect tailored suit. The man approached her on the pavement, and his eyes were focused on her face and the same wide smile on his lips.

“I’m not a model.” he said, and his voice interrupted the monologue inside her head, “I work for the Turkish embassy in the diplomatic –"

“Sorry?” she said abruptly, eyes open wide.

“I’m a diplomat, not a model,” he said, “Although I’ve been told I am tall enough to strut down the catwalk.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He nodded, clearly amused by her reaction.

“Merda!”2 she blurted out and immediately covered her mouth with her free hand and looked away. Her cheeks burning with heat and matching the colour of the flashing red from the traffic light.

“Sorry, sir. It wasn’t… I didn’t mean to offend you… I blame my sleep deprived brain.”

“I’m not offended. I am flattered actually.”

She looked back at him, his hand on the handler of her suitcase with the airline company tag hanging.

“I see you are coming from the airport.”

“How did you –”

“I’m a good observer. May I offer you a ride to your destination, miss?”

“It’s very close, really. And you’re probably running late for an important meeting or something…”

“It can wait.” he said and flashed the brightest and widest smile she’s seen in a long time, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed dimples in his cheeks. And it took all Elizabeth’s strength to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor.

“I thank you, but my mother taught me to never ride with strangers.” she said, and her eyes lowered to the mobile in her palm.

“Not even with a handsome one?” he tilted his head and smiled from ear-to-ear.

“I’m not aware of any exception…” she looked at him through her lashes, unable to prevent the corners of her lips to turn up a little at his humorous tone.

“Alright. If it’s a strict rule…” he took a deep breath, “I am Hamid Osmanoğlu, I was born in Istanbul, my favourite colour is blue, I have five sisters and I am a skilful surfer. Nice to meet you…” He motioned with his hands for her to speak.

“Elizabeth Foredale. Nice to meet you.” she said extending her hand.

Instead of shaking it, the man held it and took it to his mouth. His unusual gesture caught the attention of a few passers-by.

Ordinarily, her first instinct would have been pulling her hand back; this time, however, she didn’t flinch or struggle against his gentle grip. Instead, she only stared as his lips touched the back of her hand in a lingering kiss.

The warmth of his lips combined with the intensity of his unfaltering gaze sent a shiver down her spine and she took a deep breath. Even with face burning with heat, Elizabeth’s eyes couldn’t move away from his.

“Foredale? Are you by any chance related to the Earl of Edgewater?” he asked trapping her hand between both of his. And she allowed her hand to rest there, between the softness of his, while he came closer than she usually allows any stranger to.

“He’s my father. Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do. He’s a great man and a prominent member of the Parliament.”

“Do you know all the Parliamentarians?”

“Only the relevant ones.” he grinned, “Forgive my rudeness for not addressing you properly before, my lady. I was not aware the Earl had a daughter.”

“Please don’t. Just call me Elizabeth.”

“Alright. Elizabeth.” he said, and her name sounded like music reaching her ears, she thought.

“Now that we were formally introduced and are no longer strangers, will you accept my offer? Allow me to apologise for almost running you over.” his voice was softer and enchanting.

“I don’t know…” she breathed and bit the inside of her cheek.

_What should I do? It’s not safe riding with a stranger, no matter how hot he is… He said he knows dad and he looks like a nice guy. But he could be a serial killer. They can look nice too._

A horn reverberated and interrupted her considerations. The light had turned green and probably had done it other times by now, while his car remained partially blocking the street. His driver discreetly observing their exchanges through the opened window.

Hamid released her hand and gestured an apology to the drivers behind the black sedan. Facing her again, a hand brushed her arm with gentleness to catch her attention.

“I don’t think we can hold the traffic much longer.”

_Will I see him again if I say no?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. “Bem-vinda a Londres, Elizabeth!” - Welcome to London, Elizabeth!  
2\. “Merda!” - Shit!


	3. Chapter Two - Welcome to London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a second, standing on the pavement, Elizabeth considered the hypothesis of not seeing him again; and a yes flew from her mouth, followed by the flutter of dozens of butterflies in her stomach. And now she's riding with Hamid to her father's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

“Should we go?” the man asked.

For a second, standing on the pavement, Elizabeth considered the hypothesis of not seeing him again; and a yes flew from her mouth, followed by the flutter of dozens of butterflies in her stomach.

Beaming, Hamid asked the driver to place her suitcase in the trunk and opened the door for her. Without uttering a word, she followed his lead and adjusted herself on the backseat. Her arms tight around the backpack, as her fingers fidgeted with a silver Eiffel Tower keychain hanging from the zipper.

Even though the space between them could fit another person, the scent of Hamid’s perfume travelled to her nose – a fresh and citrusy aroma that somehow reminded her of the sea. Her eyes, like pulled by a magnet, found his, which were on her face and moved from her eyes to her lips. Immediately her gaze lowered to the metal trinket her fingers were grazing on.

_Stop being such a dork! He’s just a guy! Gorgeous and with intense eyes and a nice smile, but a guy._

The black sedan’s engine rumbled softly and the driver, catching the sight of the other man in the rear-view mirror, asked, “Mr. Osmanoğlu, should I still take you directly to the embassy?”

“John, could you please take Elizabeth to her destination first?”

“Of course, sir.” The driver nodded and his eyes moved from the man to the woman on the backseat.

Hamid gave her a sideways glance before suggesting, “You ought to tell John the address.”

“Yeah. Right.” she leaned forward and said the name of the street.

“It’s close as you said and even with this traffic it won’t take us more than ten minutes to get there,” Hamid said.

“That’s good.”

“Is it? I was hoping I could enjoy your company a little longer.”

This time, her lips pulled into a coy smile and she didn’t avoid his gaze.

“You have a refined taste; that’s an upscale neighbourhood with beautiful historical houses.”

“My father house is one of them, Mr. –”

“Call me Hamid, please.” He rested his right elbow on the back of the seat and his temple against his knuckles, “I should have guessed that was your destiny.”

“How did you meet my father?”

“I worked alongside him during the ratification of a treaty. Then we met occasionally at some galas. And I was invited to a dinner party at Edgewater this summer and spent the weekend. What an extraordinary place! And the historical re-enactments were so much fun.”

“I love those! And I just love it there! It’s like something out of a fairy-tale…” She leaned back against the headrest and smiled, “And the gardens are my favourite part… Have you seen the rosarium, Hamid?”

“I did. But I might have missed Edgewater’s most beautiful rose…” he said softly holding her gaze and she blushed.

Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Elizabeth looked out the window.

“Why haven’t I met you before?”

Biting the inside of her cheeks, she considered his words for a moment, trying to find an appropriate answer. One that wouldn’t stumble on delicate matters as her parents’ situation or her mother’s illness.

“Actually, I haven’t visited England in almost five years.”

“Really? That’s a long time.”

He studied her expression and the half-hearted smile before their eyes met again.

“Is that why I never heard anything about you, Elizabeth?”

“You haven’t? Seriously? You’ve been to Edgewater and Henrietta hasn’t shared the tales?” she gaped.

“No.”

“Wow!” She slowly shook her head. “She never failed to bring up the gossip anytime I was around…”

“To be frank, we barely spoke.”

“And I am positive you’ve never read the tabloids’ stories about my father either…”

“I cannot say I actually read tabloids. Or believe what they publish.”

“That’s reassuring,” she breathed and shifted on her seat.

A silence filled the air for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what I’ve missed?”

“Oh, no. I’m not…” she said almost too quietly to be heard.

“Will you really tease me like that?” he smirked.

“It’s not teasing… really… I…” she stuttered, “It’s just… not my favourite subject.”

“Alright. I’ll try to refrain my curiosity,” he replied softly and studied her for a moment, “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“Your accent. I was trying to figure it out. It doesn’t sound exactly British. Well, at least not how people of your station usually speak. I was wondering what’s the story behind it…”

“That’s because English is not exactly my mother tongue…”

“Then which is your mother tongue?”

“Portuguese.”

“A beautiful tongue.” His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. “Maybe you can teach me something…”

“Sure. If you’d like…” she smiled.

“I’d definitely like that.”

Her thumb went to her lips, and she fought the urge to bite the nail, as her mind screamed at the prospect of him wanting to see her again.

“Since England is a place you visit, would you mind telling me where you live, Elizabeth?”

“Until yesterday I lived in Brazil. But I’m moving to my father’s house.”

“You’re moving here?”

She nodded.

“Then we’ll have plenty of time to properly get to know each other.”

His genuine excitement remembered her of a child, incapable to hold back emotions, unlike the deliberate flirtation and measured gestures so far. Enthralled by his bright eyes, she almost couldn’t believe the news she shared had prompted this reaction. Suddenly, her brain and tongue divorced, and it seemed impossible to form coherent sentences to continue the conversation. As a result, only a giddy giggle left her lips.

_Oh, God! What was that sound? Ugh, play it cool. And stop ogling. Less eye contact. Good, now I can think. I’m intelligent. I can say something smart… Did he say he was a diplomat?_

“So… You work at an embassy, Hamid?”

“I do. I am part of the Diplomatic corps of the Republic of Turkey, just like my father and my grandfather before him. I work negotiating treaties on trade.”

“That sounds important.”

“Tremendously important and equally dull. Sounds more exciting and glamorous than it is.”

“Your family must be proud of you.”

“They expect great accomplishments from me,” he said flatly, his blue eyes focusing on a building outside.

_Way to go! Five minutes in and I’m already touching sensitive subjects… I could facepalm myself if it wouldn’t be even worse than sticking my foot into my huge mouth…_

“Is London your first assignment?”

“Oh, no. My first post was at Moscow as an attaché to the Turkish ambassador for six months. I handled some researches and wrote reports. Since I was an Economics undergrad it was an excellent opportunity to put my knowledge at use. I briefly returned to Istanbul before I was assigned to a post in Athens for about a year, where I mostly worked with the Committee for economic cooperation… Then, London. I’ve been here for the past two years. Which also allowed me to pursuit my master’s degree at London School of Economics.”

“Whoa! Aren’t you awfully young to have done all of that?” she inquired, and her voice raised with surprise causing him to let out a light-hearted laugh.

“Perhaps I am a prodigy and my talents are unmatched.“

“And I see so is your humbleness.” she whispered.

“But is humbleness as attractive as confidence?”

Her eyebrows raised and he failed to stifle a giggle.

“Or perhaps I am not as young as you think…”

“Which one is it?

“I will let you figure it out yourself.” He winked.

_I’m so obvious! I cannot hide it, can I? Time to change the subject. Again._

“It must be amazing travelling like you do, Hamid, experiencing so many places and cultures…” she said while looking outside.

“It’s a good way to satiate my craving for knowledge and adventure. While getting paid to do it.”

“I’d love to have that opportunity someday…” she mused looking through the window at one of the brick houses slowly passing by and missing the way his eyes lightened at her words.

“Your father’s house is just over there.” He pointed to a Georgian mansion with a beige brick façade.

“It’s huge!” she exclaimed, her eyes skimming from the ground floor up to the top, “Wow! It seems bigger than the pictures!”

“You haven’t been to his house?”

“It’s complicated…” she trailed off, “It’s actually my first time in London.”

“First time? Then you must let me take you to a tour.”

“Uhm. I am sorry, Hamid. But I am very tired from the flight…”

“Oh! I didn’t mean right now; I still have to work. But definitely soon.” He winked while helping her out of the car.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. My father probably has plans for us.”

She thanked the driver as he placed the suitcase by the entrance of the house.  
“He won’t be free in the afternoon,” Hamid stated.

“What… How can you possibly know that, Hamid?”

“Parliament has just returned from recess and there’s an important session tomorrow. They will deliberate about the conditions how Great Britain leaves the European Union. It’s all over the news.”

“I didn’t know that… But aren’t these deliberations important to your country?”

“Very important,” he said with a smirk, “But I can read it all later and catch up with the memes on Twitter.”

“And you won’t be working at the embassy? Doing all this important stuff you do?”

“I can take an afternoon off.” He winked and inched closer, “Can I take you out tomorrow?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“I’m taking you to a walk to see some amazing places, some of my favourite spots.”

“Your favourite spots, huh?”

“They’ll become yours too… I have a feeling.”

“Can you tell me which are they?”

“Let me surprise you…”

“We just met… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she giggled, “How can I be certain your favourite spots are not some dive bar or, I don’t know, the sewers?”

“The sewers? Why would anyone even go there?” he snorted.

“Thank God you sound surprised! But it’s a thing. People do visit London’s sewers; I saw on a documentary once.”

“Nerd,” he scoffed.

“Hey!” she let out a high pitch cry, and he laughed.

“No sewers, I promise. No dive bars on the itinerary either. Just awesome places.” He lightly touched her arm and lowered his head and his tone, “What do you say?”

“Okay,” she said smiling without meeting his eyes, “Dazzle me with your tour.”

Grinning he pulled a silver pen and a small white business card from his jacket pocket and wrote something.

“Here, take my card. That’s my mobile number. Just in case…”

She held the card with both hands, looking at the elegant font and the numbers on the back. _Should I give him mine? Perhaps I should. Is he expecting me to?_

“Does two o'clock work for you?”

“I guess…”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you. Two o’clock,” he said pointing to the pavement, “Just let me know if you can’t make it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I must go to work, and you are certainly anxious to see your father and rest.”

“I am… Thank you for the ride, Hamid. It was really nice of you.” She flashed a wide smile that reached her green eyes, which were even brighter under the morning sun. In his turn, Hamid sighed and shook his head.

“Now I wish I’ve instructed John to take a few wrong turns…”

“Would you mislead me?” she gaped.

“Never,” he purred and kissed her hand; his warm lips lingering on her skin as they did before. “But I would have preferred a long and winding route to get here, if it meant I could have enjoyed your company much longer.”

The man released her hand and lingered in silence, not taking any step towards the car. For a moment neither she dared cross the few metres to the entrance of the house.

“Elizabeth, I should –”

“Can I have your mobile, please?”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t have a fancy card,” she said, face turning red.

With a wide grin, he unlocked the screen and turned her palm up to place the device on her hand. Under his attentive gaze her fingers glided quickly putting together the letters of her name and the numbers.

“Just in case…” she said softly and handed it back to him; his fingers encircled hers longer than necessary before he retrieved the device and returned it to the pocket.

“I hope you like memes.”

“I do. When they’re funny.”

“Are you implying mine aren’t?”

“Well, you said you enjoy Brexit memes, Hamid…”

“Hey! Those can be pretty funny!” he feigned outrage.

“Nerd,” she scoffed and hid behind her hand a soundless chuckle. And he laughed loudly.

“See you tomorrow, Elizabeth.” He waved grinning. “And welcome to London!”

“Thank you, Hamid!”

He closed the door and the window reflected the grin on her face before the sedan moved away.

_Is this guy even real? Who kisses someone’s hand these days?_ she thought, an unfaltering large smile curling her lips and a spring on her steps as her feet finally found their way to the entrance door.

Suddenly, London seems far more interesting.


	4. Chapter Three: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through a crack on the door she observed her father for a moment, hunched over his desk and with a crease on his forehead as he read some papers. A stray curl of his grey hair falling from his otherwise perfectly coiffed hair.  
“Hello, dad!” she said in a cheerful tone peeking her head in the room.  
“Eliza! Please, come in!” Vincent let the papers fall from his hands and rose from the chair behind the large wooden desk and rushed to her, arms encircling her in a tight hug.  
She rested her head against his chest, and it felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Mentions to illness and death.  
* The word in Portuguese is translated on the note in the end.  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

With a spring on her steps, Elizabeth walked to the door. Taking a deep breath, her hands moved to her hair and tucked some curls behind her ears, and she rang the bell.

Dressed in a black uniform, a black-haired young man with bright blue eyes and skin as white as the door he was holding open greeted her. The man wasn’t much taller or older than her and had a gentle expression.

“Good morning! My name is Elizabeth and Lord Vincent waits for me.”

Hearing her words, his eyes lightened up in realization and he bowed slightly.

“Welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you here, Lady Elizabeth.“

“Thank you, but, please, don’t call me that! Elizabeth is good enough,” she begged and waved her hand at him, “And don’t do this. Ever.”

“But it’s not the proper etiquette at the house, my lady. The Countess would –”

“Just between the two of us,” she said in a low conspiratorial tone, “I won’t tell a soul. You can call me lady or whatever in front of lady grandmother and during social gatherings if you must…”

His lips opened and closed as he tried to speak. The frown a clear indication he was pondering over her words. Then his expression softened.

“I am Arthur Woods, the butler. You may call me Woods or Arthur as you prefer. Your father is at his study and I will take you to him now. Elizabeth.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Allow me.” He took her suitcase and asked for her backpack, “They will be taken to your suite.”

**********

Through a crack on the door she observed her father for a moment, hunched over his desk and with a crease on his forehead as he read some papers. A stray curl of his grey hair falling from his otherwise perfectly coiffed hair.

“Hello, dad!” she said in a cheerful tone peeking her head in the room.

“Eliza! Please, come in!” Vincent let the papers fall from his hands and rose from the chair behind the large wooden desk and rushed to her, arms encircling her in a tight hug.

She rested her head against his chest, and it felt like home. Blinking the tears of joy that wished to spill, she sighed content.

“I am terribly sorry for all the inconveniences, my darling. If I’ve anticipated this, I’d have cancelled the interview this morning and all my appointments to pick you up myself.”

“It’s okay, dad.”

“How was the cab ride?” he asked, taking a step back to fondly look at her.

“Actually, I took the tube…” Her lips were pulled inside her mouth in the same way she does ever since she was a child, waiting for a reprimand that never comes from her father.

“Eliza, you shouldn’t have!” he said with a concerned, but endearing tone, “You are not familiar with the Underground and the streets… well, it could be quite confusing for a newcomer.”

Lowering her gaze, she let the lie slip, “It wasn’t that difficult… Besides I met one of your colleagues and he offered me a ride.”

“Which colleague?”

“Hamid Osmanoğlu,” she replied, “Tall guy. Diplomat.”

“Hamid? Well…” Her father’s mouth pulled into a large smile, “We worked together. A kind young man – perhaps too kind for his own good. He impressed me with his people-reading abilities, and he is smarter than he lets it be known.”

“He seems pretty smart.” And cocky.

“How did you like him? I know the ladies are very fond of him.”

“Dad, are you already playing the matchmaker? I thought that was grandma’s job!” Feigning annoyance, Elizabeth rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest, which prompted her father to let out a wholehearted laugh.

“I notice my question remains unanswered… However, considering the smile on your face, should I assume you liked him?”

“No!” she shrieked, and her cheeks turned pink.

“Then, you disliked him?”

“It’s too early for a verdict about someone I just met.”

“Then I’ll bid my time until the verdict is out. Have a seat, my darling,” he patted the couch by his side, “Besides, there’s someone else I want to introduce you. If I’m not mistaken you’ve met Ernest Sinclaire, haven’t you?”

“Have I? The name doesn’t ring any bell.”

“Ledford Park, his family estate borders Edgewater. You’ve been there on a few occasions. Our families have been close for ages and your grandmother and his are longtime friends. She always comes for tea…”

Her hand covered her lips to stifle a giggle. Aw, Dad! Grandma has a dozen friends coming for tea every week!

“I’m sorry, dad. I don’t remember him…”

“It’s alright. It’s been quite a while since you’ve been there… Anyway, he’s an extraordinary young man. I believe you would get along well since he’s a lawyer –”

“Father…”

“No matchmaking. For now,” he smirked and pulled her to another hug, “I have missed you greatly, my darling!”

“I’ve missed you too, dad!” she relished in his embrace.

“I hope you can forgive me for this past year, for not being the father you needed.”

“Don’t say that.” Her head rested on his shoulder.

“And I’m terribly sorry for your mother. If only I knew, I could’ve been there for both of you…”

“Mamãe1 only shared it with a few of her closest friends. And they helped us a lot…”

“Maria was too stubborn. She could’ve had a better treatment plan…”

“She had the best specialists, dad.”

“I should’ve known something was wrong. If only I’ve talked to her sooner…”

“You couldn’t possibly know… And it was her choice.”

“I know. But I could’ve done something, if only I knew… At least I could’ve seen her one last time,” he sighed.

Elizabeth contemplated the tears welling up in his eyes for the second time in her life. Once again there was nothing she could tell him to make it better.

When her mother finally told him about the illness, he cleared as much of his schedule as possible and bought a plan ticket. However, she died a couple of days later, at the eve of his flight to Rio.

Once her father received the news, he never took the plane. With a strangled voice, he called Elizabeth saying he couldn’t do it, the idea of seeing Maria for the last time in a coffin was unbearable. Thus, her grandmother took his place on the plane and at Elizabeth’s side for the next two weeks.

For what she knows, her parents loved one another until the end. The smile on her mother’s face after they talked then and her father’s tears now were clear signs of it. It pained her how life has conspired to tear them apart. Life and her grandfather Rupert.

While the man was still alive, her father not once brought Elizabeth to his presence. On the contrary, they would be at Edgewater whenever he was staying in London and in the rare occasions he would go to the country during summertime, her father would take her for holidays anywhere else.

His interferences were not forgotten nor forgiven. Not even after Rupert has fallen ill. Vincent didn’t attend the funeral. Either in London or Edgewater one wouldn’t find a picture of him exposed amongst their many notorious ancestors.

“You can remember her as she used to be, beautiful and radiant. Before the illness took her voice away,” she finally said and felt her throat tighten.

In a way that I can’t sometimes…

“Her voice is heavenly –” he sighed, “It was heavenly.”

“It’ll always be. I can still hear her singing in my head.” Elizabeth flashed him a tight-lipped smile.

They sat there, holding each other’s hands, lost in reminiscences about Maria.

“Dad, I hope you can understand now why I couldn’t stay longer after Harry’s funeral. I wished very much to be present and support you, but mamãe also needed me.”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven, darling.” He took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head.

His chest heaved with a deep inhale and Elizabeth smiled, enjoying the embrace. Being so close to him brought memories from when she was just a little girl. Many times, at Edgewater manor, she would come running into the study and he’d pull her on his lap. With a smile, her father would amuse her with tales about their illustrious ancestors.

“Do you feel like eating?” he asked softly, “I already had breakfast, but I could take you downstairs and keep you company for a bit.”

“I’m good. I’m just really tired from the flight.”

“If you are certain…”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll take you –” His mobile rang in his pocket and Vincent frowned at the caller. “Forgive me. I will have to return this call.”

“I understand, dad. I’m aware of the important session tomorrow.”

“Very important indeed,” he sighed, “Your room is here on this floor. Third door on your left. If you need anything you can ask the staff. There’s an intercom there. Have you met Woods?”

She nodded.

“You can call and ask him whatever you need. He’s very efficient,” he paused, “I hope we can have dinner together, Eliza.”

“I’d love that, dad.”

“Hopefully I’ll be home by seven, and – Oh! I almost forgot. We’ll have a dinner party on Saturday to introduce you to our closest friends. You’ll get the chance to meet Ernest.” He winked and she playfully puffed in a signal of annoyance.

“Mother mentioned she would have some boutique deliver dresses for you to choose for this special occasion.”

“I’ll ask grandma about it when I see her.” She pressed her lips in a thin line, already feeling overwhelmed with the prospect.

Throughout the years, unlike her brother Harry, Elizabeth attended a handful of those events. Whenever she had to, though it made her extremely anxious. If dealing with all the formalities, people’s judgement and to live up to her family’s expectations wasn’t already hard enough, her stepmother would do anything possible to make her feel unwelcomed and inadequate.

The last time she had just turned fifteen and her younger brother was by her side whispering the names of Barons and making fun of those formalities. Now more than ever she was apprehensive if she could be part of that world without his support.

“I’ll see you later, dad.” She waved and walked to the door as he returned to his chair.

“I am glad you’re here now, my darling,” he said with a smile and she turned to face him, “I cannot make up for lost time but I am grateful you decided to come.”

“Me too, dad.”

Opening the door, she was face to face with the last person she wanted to see.

“Were you eavesdropping?” she gaped.

“Don’t be absurd! I was simply looking for my husband!” Henrietta barked, “I see your manners haven’t improved since the last we met.”

“Neither have yours,” Elizabeth scoffed.

Her stepmother glared at her for a few breaths, before entering the study slamming the door closed.

“Always nice seeing you, Countess,” Elizabeth snorted and turned on her heels.

**********

The door indicated was wide open. From the hallway she glanced at the modern furniture and decoration. The black and white contrasting with the traditional decoration she’s seen so far. The room was bathed in brilliant morning light. Walking to the large white-framed window, Elizabeth admired the narrow but long garden with its tall trees, potted plants and stone floor with a beautiful geometric pattern. The iron bench on the far back would probably be a good place for reading on sunny days, she mused while looking at two magpies chirping on a branch.

“One for sorrow, two for joy,” she spoke the rhyme she learned from her grandmother.

Turning her back to the window, her fingers grazed the black and white wallpaper, when her eyes laid on the backpack placed over the desk, right next to a rectangular box. According to the note, her stepbrother Edmund have helped her father pick a laptop for her.

She smiled thinking about the fun they used to have during summertime at Edgewater with their brother Harry. Putting the note back down, she sat on the edge of the queen-size bed.

While she bounced a bit on the mattress, her ears caught the sound of light footsteps approaching. Swivelling, Elizabeth saw her grandmother in an elegant green ensemble walking inside. Her white as snow hair pulled into a bun and she had a smile on her thin lips.

“Welcome, Elizabeth!” she said holding her hands, “You look even more beautiful!”

“Thank you, lady grandmother,” she whispered smiling sheepishly.

“I’ve told you before, such formalities aren’t necessary when we are alone. Call me grandma, as you used to.” The elderly woman patted her arm. “How was your flight?”

“It was long, but good. Uneventful.”

“Uneventful is excellent when flying those horrible machines, especially during such a long flight!” she grimaced, “May I ask how you are doing?”

“Fine, but tired.”

“As I told you before, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you, grandma.”

They stared at each other for a moment before her grandmother cleared her throat.

“I hope the room pleases you. I had it renewed as soon as you said you would stay with us.”

“It’s lovely.”

“It is, isn’t it? Have you seen the garden?”

“I did. There were two magpies on a branch.”

They said the rhyme in unison, and both smiled.

“It’s amazing to imagine something like this is hidden behind those tall brick facades. I would never guess…”

“I adore it. I take my tea outside sometimes on that table over there. You could join me sometime.”

“I’d love to.”

The elderly woman smiled at Elizabeth and turned around pointing to a corner.

“I had all the toys removed to fit your books and collectibles. It was senseless keeping them here now.”

“Which toys, grandma?”

“Yours. Your father had this room prepared for ages to receive you.”

“I had no idea.”

“Ah! It enraged Henrietta knowing this room was here… The best view to the garden, as she says. But it was your room. First a nursery, then a beautiful little girl’s room with dolls and a small table with a porcelain tea set,” she mused with the hint of a wistful smile. “I suppose you wish to rest.”

“I do.”

“I will leave you to it.”

“Grandma, wait. Would you happen to know where my suitcase is? I’d like to have a shower and I need my clothes.”

“I had a maid unpack and arrange it while you were with Vincent. Your boxes have arrived a few days ago and we arranged your belongings as well. Your clothes are in this wardrobe. You’ll also find some ensembles I bought you. If the size is wrong or you don’t like them, just let me know and I’ll see to return them.”

Elizabeth nodded and the woman moved around and resumed speaking and pointing.

“Your toiletries are on the cabinet of the en-suite. Books are on the shelves there and other personal belongings are stored either on these drawers or by your nightstand. I took the liberty to place the framed picture there too. It’s a lovely one.”

Elizabeth’s eyes found the framed picture of herself holding hands with her parents in a beach in Dorset when she was one year old, and she smiled.

“You have your mother’s smile.”

Oh, no! The picture was in my suitcase. The thought made heat rise to her cheeks.

“So you went through all my stuff?” Elizabeth’s voice raised with shock and she stared at the elderly woman.

“Everything was unpacked.”

“What if I had secret stuff I didn’t want anyone to see, grandma?”

“Secret stuff?” the other woman flashed an indulgent smile, “My dear, if you do have anything to hide, I suggest you learn to do it extremely well or don’t have secrets at all. From now on you’ll be constantly observed and judged. Your father is a member of Parliament; thus your behaviour reflects on his image and vice-versa,” she lowered her voice and gave her granddaughter a knowing look, “And you must be particularly careful within these walls.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders tensed at her words.

“Do you understand what I am saying, Elizabeth?”

“I think I do, grandma.”

“Good. If you have any other question about those matters, don’t ever hesitate to come to me, Elizabeth. I know you are not used to deal with the press and manage your own image, and I suppose it can be overwhelming at first.”

“Alright. I’ll remember that.” She pressed her lips together.

“However, if your question was prompted solely by those contraceptive packages on your luggage, my dear, rest assured that I am aware you are a grown woman. I might be old, but I am not oblivious to how things work nowadays.”

Elizabeth gagged unlike any proper lady of her rank should, causing her grandmother to raise her eyebrows in surprise at the lack of composure.

Oh, my god! My grandmother is talking about the condoms. Why did I bring them with me? Damn you, Renata and your stupid advices! Who even gives condoms as a farewell gift to a friend? Seriously!”

“I would beg you only be discreet for your father’s sake. He still pictures you as his little girl with braids running around Edgewater’s gardens.”

Elizabeth felt more heat creeping its way from her neck to her face and her eyes fixed on her feet.

“Oh! Elizabeth, you don’t need to be ashamed. I heard it’s quite ordinary for women your age to carry those… I wouldn’t expect so many… Anyway, they are on your nightstand if you’re wondering.”

“I’m not! Wondering. But thank you, grandma. For being so… understanding,” she stammered, “Could you please excuse me now? I’m really tired.” She feigned a yawn. And I’m about to dig a giant hole on the ground and lie there until I die.

“Of course. Rest now, my dear. I arranged for you to try on dresses at four o’clock. Did your father tell you that?” she asked and the young lady nodded, “Afterwards we could have tea, if you’d indulge me.”

“Four o’clock. Dresses. Tea. Sounds perfect.”

The elderly woman smiled and closed the door with a soft click. And Elizabeth fell face first on the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Mamãe - An endearing term for mother; mom.


	5. Chapter Four - Possibly Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Mentions to death.  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Less than a day has passed since Elizabeth’s feet touched London and she’s exhausted. The long flight or time zones, however, are not to be blamed for it.

Between the hour-and-a-half outfit trying with her grandmother - which would be a torture alone for someone who dreads formal occasions as she does -, and the tense dinner peppered with Henrietta’s spiteful remarks, she craved for a quiet moment. Once her father excused himself to work on a speech and kissed her forehead on his way out, she took the opportunity to take her leave from the dinning room too.

Instead of her room, her feet took her to the still unexplored terrace. Walking past the white and black geometric marble floor, her hands grazed on the fabric of the white outdoor sofa and rested on its back. Revelling in the cool breeze of the beginning of September, she looked up at the sky and the few stars visible over the city skyline.

“Elizabeth.”

Turning around, she searched for the masculine voice behind her and found a familiar face. Standing by the threshold as rigid as one of the marble statues was Edmund Marlcaster. In a beige suit, hands behind his back, ash-blond hair framing his face, her stepbrother looked too tired for a twenty-four-year-old.

“Edmund. Hi!”

“How do you do, Elizabeth?”

“Fine. You?”

“Good.”

“It’s been a while…”

“Almost six years,” Edmund said, and his expression softened and the corners of his lips turned up a little, “Since that last summer at Edgewater before I went to college.”

“You’re taller now.”

“And you are not.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I grew a centimetre after I’ve turned fourteen!” Elizabeth giggled.

“How was your flight?”

“Fine.”

An awkward silence fell between them and their eyes were drawn to the sky. His hands also rested on the back of the sofa. Her mind struggling with too many thoughts and none of them seemed appropriate to verbalize. They barely spoken during this time. A few phone calls, usually on birthdays, messages exchanged now and then, occasionally a comment on a picture on _Pictagram_, and that was about all their interactions.

Her gaze moved back to him as he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said softly, stepping closer, his pale blue eyes focused on her.

“Thank you.”

“How are you, truly?”

“I’m as good as I can be right now. Each day learning to live without her,” she spoke and tried to swallow the lump forming on her throat.

“If you ever need to talk…”

“Thanks.”

Nodding, he looked back up.

“How about you, Ed? I didn’t get to see you at Harry’s funeral.”

“I saw you,” he said flatly, “But I was asked to leave the chapel before the service.”

“Why?” she gaped.

“I was quite smashed, to be honest,” His hand hastily brushed his temple as if he could still feel the effects of the alcohol. “And I don’t recall which of my inappropriate behaviours urged this, but I believe my mother made a wise decision.”

“I can only imagine how you must have felt… I miss him, of course, but you two were so close…”

“He was such a smartass!” he snickered, looking down at his shoes, “And my best friend. I miss him every day. These past months I’ve been coping with the idea he’s not here… Just like you with your mother, I suppose.”

“It’s unreal, right?”

“To say the least…”

“I still remember when we taught him how to play poker. He was so funny, and we had the best time!” she mused.

“Our memories from that day are quite different,” he snorted, “I remember you cheated. A lot!”

“I did not!” She smacked his arm playfully.

“You did so, Eliza!” he chuckled, “You were a terrible loser and an even worse winner…“

“You’re only saying that because I’ve beaten you whenever we played… Do you want a rematch, Marlcaster? Now we can bet money instead of Double Decker bars,” she said quirking her eyebrows.

“I pass.” He waved his hands dismissively.

“Ah, what a total killjoy!” she giggled, and he shook his head not hiding a small smirk. The sight made her consider that he could use a sister as much as she could use a brother.

“I must go now. Mother made me promise I would not fraternize with the enemy, so…” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” she snorted.

“But we should get together sometime…” he susurrated, “She doesn’t need to know.”

“How about a movie night with dad?”

“Sure, if you’re willing to watch the latest _007_ films only to hear him whinging how he misses Roger Moore.”

“Still?” She looked at him and he nodded. “Well… We could try another genre. Maybe _Star Wars?_ Dad always enjoyed those.”

“Perhaps. Sometime next week? I’ll check with Theresa which night we’re free.”

“So, you’re engaged…”

“Yes, I am.”

“Such a grown up! How is she like?”

“Well, what can I say?” he shrugged, “You will meet her Saturday and you’ll see for yourself. Goodnight, Eliza.”

“Night, Ed."

*****

When the wind blew colder, she returned to her room. Lying on the bed, her hand reached for the mobile on the nightstand and her fingers shuffled through the notifications.

Renata had left a few messages and they video-chatted for the next hour. The repercussions of her goodbye gift, which prompted her friend to burst out laughing to the verge of tears, and the disastrous dinner were amongst the main subjects. Blowing a kiss to each other they finished the call.

Before putting the phone back on the nightstand, Elizabeth noticed one unread message from an unknown number.

**. Hey! It’s Hamid. Just wanted to make sure you got my number **

She smiled at her mobile, before her fingers glided on the screen, saving his contact. Fighting the urge to reply him right away, she bit at her thumb’s nail and pulled herself up. Hopping to the desk, she took his card from the backpack pocket and googled him. Lying back on the bed, she started going through the numerous search results.

_Hamid Osmanoğlu, let’s see what we’ve got here. He will be twenty-six on December. He’s a Sagittarius. His father is the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Turkey? That’s huge! His family is a big deal there, isn’t it? And he’s got so many relatives. One of his ancestors was a Sultan! That’s cool; even if they became a Republic after the war… He lived in plenty of cities growing up, Sidney, Paris, Boston… He speaks eight languages! Impressive, even for a diplomat. Oh! He looks really cute in his high school uniform. And he had a cat. Princess Leia. Such a nerd… _

Smiling, she glanced at the Princess Leia’s doll with its bobblehead on a bookshelf alongside other Star Wars’ collectible. A passion she’s inherited from her father.

_Wait… What happened to the cat? There are no more pictures of her and… Hello, semi-nude Hamid on a beach! Nice abs! Surfing in Australia, Hawaii, New Zealand… He wasn’t lying about surfing. _

She scrolled down.

“Turkish Prince Charming?” she muttered and clicked on the link of an American celebrity gossip site.

_Wow! That’s a lot of women. Is that one a model? I think I recognize her… The daughter of the Russian ambassador. A Turkish actress. A French actress. Internet celebrity girl… Every time a different gorgeous woman by his side. How many women have you dated, Hamid? Seriously? _

Reading the article, for a moment, she considered if it would be a wise decision to go out with him. The words she’s heard from her grandmother earlier ringing on her brain. Her teeth bit the nail on her index finger as she pondered. Kindness and intelligence were Hamid’s qualities mentioned by her father, who didn’t point anything negative about him.

_If he were bad news or someone to avoid, dad would certainly have warned me. I’m overthinking this. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions before even getting to know this guy._

Another notification on the screen, another message from him.

The question she wished to ask him was the only one she didn’t have the courage to type. Her mind racing with the possible reactions it could prompt. The worst one would be the cancellation of their date.

Too afraid to say something she could regret later or to make a fool of herself, she examined one of the sites again, before messaging him again.

The app indicating he was typing and typing, but no message was sent for a while and she waited. Her fingers glided on the screen and she was unsure what to text him next. Other questions typed to keep up with the conversation, but each text erased before pressing send.

Closing her eyes for an instant, she tried to collect her thoughts.

_What’s wrong with me? I should just ask if any of these women is his girlfriend. Or someone else. No big deal. He brought up the subject, anyway. It’s on the internet, so it’s obviously not a secret… But what if he does? What if there’s someone?   
_

Inhaling deeply, she stared at the screen. The clock showing it was a little past 1 am.

She smiled at her phone and looked again at his profile picture before putting it away. Just thinking about meeting him the next day made her pulse race. Butterflies fluttered on her stomach; no memories that it has ever happened over any guy. A strange and foreign sensation.

_Why am I like this? I just met this guy!_


	6. Chapter Five - London Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Mentions to racism, xenophobia and Islamophobia.  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry. Except OC (Renata).

Elizabeth crossed her arms and pulled the blouse over her head and threw it at the bed, where clothes were piling up. Hopping to the wardrobe, she shuffled through the hangers and huffed. At last, a long-sleeved white top was picked from a drawer. 

The reflection in the mirror caused her face to contort in a grimace and she pulled her long hair up in a bun. Droplets of sweat emerging above her upper lip, even though the day was mild.

The beep sound drew her attention to the mobile on the desk. Fingers drumming at the rhythm of the song playing as she read the text.

After a few moments, the face of her friend Renata popped on the screen of the notebook and they both greeted each other in Portuguese. The other girl’s cheerful tone louder than the soft ballad playing on the mobile.

“Is everything okay, Liz? I got your text and I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon!”

“Yeah… Sorry about that. I know you’re in class –”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’ll take any excuse to avoid another discussion on Wittgenstein…” She smiled, “Now, spill.”

“I kinda have a fashion emergency. Got time?”

“Sure! I live for those!”

“Thank God! I’m panicking a bit here.”

“Why? What’s the occasion?”

“Well… I’m meeting this guy and –”

“What?” Renata’s voice echoed in the room, “You already met a guy, Liz?”

“Shhh…” Elizabeth hissed and waved her hands.

“Chill. It’s not like anybody understands what I’m saying anyway…”

Elizabeth’s head whipped back and she glanced at the door, before turning the volume down.

“When did you meet a guy?” she whispered.

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, and her voice raised again, “I can’t believe you! We talked for an hour!”

“I know… Sorry.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“It’s kinda embarrassing…”

“Oh, embarrassing story? You’ve gotta tell me.”

“I don’t want to…”

“Then I’m going back to the torture session… Bye-bye, Liz.”

“Wait!” she squealed, “Your brother is right. You’re really a pain!”

“Just tell me already!”

“Alright, he almost ran me over. Well, not him. The car he was in… Then he offered me a ride home to apologise. Even though, I was the one to blame…” 

“Oh! So chivalrous!”

“He’s really nice.”

“Is he cute?” Renata rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? Of course, he is, or you wouldn’t be like that. How cute is he?”

Elizabeth just smiled, leaning back on the armchair.

“That cute, huh?”

“He’s handsome. Like so handsome I cannot look him in the eye or my brain shuts down.”

“Can your brain do that?” Renata giggled.

“I’m as surprised as you,” Elizabeth said, “But it’s not just his looks. I know we’ve only met, but he’s so funny and smart. And he’s super flirty, but not in a creepy way. You know?”

“I really don’t…”

“It seemed he could anticipate what he could say… He’d make me blush but not feel uncomfortable. Like a flirty Jedi1! And when he kissed my hand… it was so… it’s hard to explain.”

“He kissed your hand? How old is this Jedi guy?” teased Renata, “Are we talking Obi-wan Kenobi2 in _The Phantom Menace_ or _A New Hope_?”

“Shut up!” she squealed, “It was sweet…” The memory of his warm lips on her skin and their eyes locked made her blush, and her hands covered her cheeks.

“Whoa! You never talked like that about anyone before, not even about Léo… Characters from books and movies, yes. Real guys, never,” Renata said, “And that look… The closest I saw was whenever we shared a piece of Agatha’s carrot cake.”

“Aw! I miss that cake already,” Elizabeth sighed.

“What has England done to you, dude?”

“Stop looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head or something, Re! I’m allowed to think a guy is handsome.”

“Sure, but –”

“Let’s focus. I need help! I’m physically and mentally unable to pick my own clothes. I am freaking out! Help me, please! He’ll be here in half an hour!”

“Turn off the drama queen mode, Liz! We’ve got plenty of time. Where are you going?”

“I don’t know… How am I supposed to know if I’m overdressed? Or underdressed? I’ve already tried five outfits. I even tried one of the ensembles grandma’s got me and I was looking just like a younger version of her minus the hair and –”

“Breathe, honey,” Renata interrupted her blabbering, “Just show me what you’ve got on.”

Rising to her feet, Elizabeth took a few steps back and lifted her arms.

“Cute top. But the jeans are boring. How about the black pleated skirt?”

Smiling, she marched to the bed and tugged at the skirt at the bottom of the pile. In no time, the pants joined the rejects pile and she spun once in front of the camera.

“Much better! You always look cute with that. And loose the flats. You need something sexier.”

“Don’t even say heels! We’re walking.”

“If Beyoncé can dance on heels, you can walk.”

“I’m using these sneakers.” She produced a white pair from the wardrobe.

“Whatever. But you must let your hair down. Both literally and metaphorically. And put on some make up.” She tilted her head and hummed. “It’s a perfect occasion for one of the lipsticks I got you.”

“They’re all so bright or red… I don’t know…”

“You need colour. The red one would look great on you, with the bonus that Jedi guy won’t be able to stop looking at your lips and – Hey! What’s his name?”

“Hamid,” Elizabeth answered as she tied the lace on the sneakers.

“Take a selfie with Hamid. I wanna see the face of the guy who’s got you smitten.” She winked. “Also need access to his _Pictagram_. For investigative purposes.”

“I’ve already googled him.”

“You did? Aw, my little _Padawan3_ is growing up. I’m so proud!” she exclaimed, “But I’ll check too anyway. Just to be sure.”

“I can send a picture of him now,” Elizabeth said and started typing on the mobile.

“You already have pictures of him?” she gawked.

“The internet does.”

“What a snack!” Renata whistled, “I still can’t believe we talked last night and you didn’t bother mentioning him! Just for the record, that’s the kind of thing you tell your best friend! You tell her right away!”

“Sorry. I was embarrassed and he could change his mind about this… and I…” she mumbled, “But we texted last night. And this morning. Since he didn’t cancel on me…”

“He would be an idiot to cancel on you. And you don’t need another idiotic guy,” she scoffed, “If you texted this much already, why are you scared?”

“I don’t get tongue tied texting. And I can be funny online. I use emojis. But in person…”

“You can be funny offline, if you relax.”

“What about this bag?”

“You need a much smaller one. You’re not taking any book. What about the round one?”

“What if I can’t talk to him?”

“Listen, honey. You’ve texted, you clearly enjoyed it and he wants to see you. Those are good signs.”

“I guess,” she said holding the bag.

“Perfect. Fits all you’ll need to carry and won’t get in the way when you’re kissing him.”

“There will be no kissing! I just met him!” Elizabeth’s eyes widened and her cheeks suddenly were coloured in a darker pink hue.

“Sure, honey. If anyone could really predict that kind of thing…” she snorted, “And judging by the way you’re talking about him you better take at least one of the condoms.”

“What? No! What –”

“Relax. I’m just kidding,” she paused, and her index finger rubbed against her lips, “How’s the weather?”

“It’s fine now. But the forecast says the temperature will drop to sixteen later in the afternoon and then lower… I’m taking a coat.”

“Take a scarf and the jean jacket. It’s cute, you won’t freeze, but you can still tell him you’re feeling cold…” She winked.

“Why would I… Oh! You really think about everything.” They chuckled. “Thank you, honey. You’re a life saviour.”

“Please use the red lipstick and don’t marry Hamid before I get to know him, Liz.”

“Shut up! Bye!”

*****

Elizabeth hopped down the stairs. Skipping the last two steps, she landed with a light thump on the carpet.

“Elizabeth, mind your manners!”

The young woman stopped shortly, and her head whipped back in the direction of her grandmother’s voice.

“Are you already on your way out?”

“I am, grandma; my friend is waiting for me.”

“How unfortunate! There was someone here I wished to introduce you.”

“Sorry, grandma…”

“It’s alright,” she waved her hands dismissively, “Before I forget, I scheduled Renée to style your hair for the dinner Saturday. She’ll be here at three o’clock. Be ready.”

“Isn’t it too early?”

“Your hair must be challenging to her,” she said examining it and her fingers touched one of the curls, “You are lovely, my dear, but you’ll need to look polished.”

The words hit her like a punch. As she usually does, Elizabeth refrained from retorting and instead her lips were pursed in the thinnest line.

“She’ll do your makeup. And I’ll ask for a manicure as well.” Holding the young woman’s hands, she took a hard look before sighing. “Try not biting your nails until then. There’s already too little to work with.”

“I’ll do my best, grandma.”

“You may go. Enjoy yourself, my dear, and be careful.”

*****

Hamid was standing outside in an elegant navy suit, light blue shirt and a navy tie with small silver dots. A hand on his trousers’ pockets and the other holding the mobile as he looked at the screen. The sight causing her heart to pound even faster.

The click of the door closing brought his eyes to Elizabeth. His lips pulled into a large smile and revealed the whiteness of his teeth and dimples on his cheeks.

“Hi!”

“Hello, Elizabeth!”

“Are we going somewhere fancy, Hamid? Should I change?” She asked and wiped her moist hands as she smoothed the fabric of the skirt.

“You look absolutely breath-taking,” he said grinning, his eyes lingering on her cherry lips before wandering from her face all the way down to her feet, “Are those shoes comfortable?”

She nodded.

“Then, you’re perfect to go.” He clapped his hands and asked her to follow him.

Walking side by side, Hamid talked about the main buildings on their way and pointed details on the red brick facades, sharing curious tales of past residents. Elizabeth listened carefully and her eyes tried to take it all in. Although, from time to time, whenever he wasn’t looking, her gaze returned to its preferred spot: her companion’s face.

“So, no driver today?” she asked once they reached the end of the street and waited by the crossing line.

“I usually don’t take the embassy cars. London’s traffic is a nightmare. Yesterday was a very fortunate exception.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I only took the car, because I had two boxes of old reports to return. Why?”

“What a strange coincidence,” she pointed out, “The driver was supposed to pick me up at the airport, but there was some ‘misunderstanding’ – and by misunderstanding, I mean Henrietta pulled her strings and he ended up in the wrong airport… So, I took the underground.”

“I don’t believe it was a coincidence. I think Allah planned that we meet.” He winked and a shy smile curled her lips.

Elizabeth casted a glance at him before looking away. In silence, she mulled over his words as they resumed walking. For the first time – and possibly the last one –, she should be thankful for Henrietta’s impersonation of a fairy-tale stepmother.

“Did it make you nervous?”

“Sorry?”

“The mention to Allah. The fact I’m a Muslim,” he said in a low tone and met her eyes. A small crease between his eyebrows.

“No, of course not,” she uttered, “Why would it make me nervous?”

“Well, you were too quiet all of a sudden and there’s the common assumption about us being fanatics and terrorists, so…”

“Oh, no! That’s just stupid prejudice!” she exclaimed, a steady voice replacing her lower timid tone, “Categorizing millions of people like that is the same as saying every single Christian is a murderous because of the Inquisition or basically the whole America’s colonization process. Or the Crusades. The list can go on and on…”

Hamid’s jaw dropped a bit contemplating the changing in her demeanour, and he blinked a few times before words left his mouth again.

“I’ve seen its face time and again to know the logic of prejudice is not based on facts or rationality, but mostly on fear. And when the fear is constantly directed towards a specific group or community, for years, you can imagine the consequences,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry to hear it, Hamid. It’s unfair people would mistreat you because of your beliefs… Or anything else, for that matter.” She pondered about how trying it must’ve been to him. Racism and prejudice are not unfamiliar subjects to her. “I can only imagine how hurtful it must be.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth. You’re as kind as your father. But I don’t let it define me.” He touched her arm. “This way.”

“Excuse me if it’s rude to say this, but you don’t exactly fit the stereotype… and there’s so much diversity in London…” she said wringing her hands, “Is it easier here?”

“Sometimes it seems easier to forget about it in a big city like London, if you’re not sporting a beard and using a turban, but I’ve learned quickly it’s as present as anywhere else… Every time there’s an attack, the fear and hate increase. And if you carry a double stigma of being both Muslim and foreign… I’m aware of people’s first thoughts when I speak Turkish or Arab in public. Some are particularly enthusiastic to share them out loud…”

“London seems to be such a cosmopolitan city with so much diversity and yet…” She shook her head slowly. “In Brazil we have this idea of Europe being so civilized and progressive…”

“It is in some aspects. But in others…” he trailed off and she caught the hint of sadness in his unsmiling face.

Refraining the urge to grab his hand, she fidgeted with a metal button of her jacket instead.

“I wish things were different,” Elizabeth said softly.

“So do I. But I try not to let this change me or make me unkind,” he shrugged, and the smile returned to his lips, “I offer kindness in return. Some might think it’s a weakness. But I believe we can only offer what we have in store…”

In silence they crossed another street and she mulled over his words.

“We’re almost there,” he said and caught her staring at him, which made him grin and her to look away immediately. “I thought about taking you to the National Gallery or to the Tate, but I wasn’t sure where you stand on visiting museums… And I would be a bad tour guide if I bored you to death on our first outing.”

“I enjoy going to museums,” she said returning his smile and thinking how improbable for someone to be bored by him.

“Good to know. I can take you to one of them next time.”

Whenever he expressed the wish to see her again, dozens of butterflies fluttered in Elizabeth’s stomach. The corners of her lips turned upwards and she held tighter at the strap of the purse.

“That’s Oxford Street. There is a tube station on the right.”

Beneath the Marble Arch, he beamed and lifted both arms facing her.

“And this is our first stop: Hyde Park. I thought we could enjoy the sun with a stroll. Then we’ll do some sightseeing and finish the tour at my favourite coffee shop.”

“Sounds good,” she said, “How do you know this area so well?”

“The flat I live in is just a few minutes down Oxford Street. And the Embassy is over there,” he said swivelling his torso to point to the opposite direction, “Sometimes I walk through the park to get to work. Inside we can almost forget we’re in such a busy city.”

“You’re definitely the perfect guide to show me around.”

“I am. And as you can see, I’m also a very short walk away from you in either direction, if you ever need me…” He winked.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said softly and stared at her hands with fingers intertwined as they walked inside the park.

The indistinct sound of voices caught Elizabeth’s attention and her gaze fell on a group around a man over a stool. There were other men addressing the passers-by too.

“We’re at Speaker’s Corner. It’s a place where one can come and give a speech.”

“I’ve heard about it.” She observed one of the man over a folding chair. “They’re talking about Brexit, aren’t they?”

“There’s a lot of anticipation due to today’s session. And an increasing tension as well,” he said, touching her back, “This way.”

His hand lingered there and they walked closer for a while in comfortable silence, just enjoying the breeze and the sound of birds once they distanced from the buzzing of the crowd.

Elizabeth couldn’t choose the best scent, if it was the smell of the trees or Hamid’s perfume, the same fresh fragrance from the day before.

As soon as his hand left her back to describe a statue and he stepped aside, she missed his touch and the closeness. But she dared not say a word about it as he resumed telling another tale.

“It’s such a weird sight,” she confided in a low voice, “These people well-dressed, with their suits sitting on the grass. Having lunch at a park. You’ll never see that in Rio.”

“There’s no endless summer here. Thus, people take every opportunity to enjoy it while it lasts. Soon it’ll be fall, the days become greyer and shorter… Sunlight will become scarce.”

“I’ll have to get used to it… I only came to England during summer.”

“I assume you lived in Rio.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Hamid started singing and she recognized the first verses of _Girl from Ipanema_ and the corners of her lips turned up.

“You have a beautiful voice, Hamid,” she said softly, stealing a sideways glance at him.

“Thank you.”

“I actually lived very close to Ipanema beach. I could see it from my bedroom window and I used to go there all the time…”

“A true girl from Ipanema.”

“I already miss the view and riding my bike… And I’ll definitely miss bathing during summertime at the end of the day, enjoying the warm waters and seeing the sun go down…”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She frowned. “I’m romanticizing it… Rio was not nearly a perfect city, that’s for sure…”

“Even imperfect cities have aspects we love. Like people. And it’s normal to miss both.”

“I guess so… What about Istanbul? How’s it over there?”

“Incomparably beautiful and busy and also imperfect.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The city? Not so much. I miss my family, though. I visit them as often as I can. And I certainly miss the food,” he let a contented sigh, “I recently went there during Eid and ate so much I thought I would re-enact the restaurant scene from _The meaning of life_.”

She chuckled and he casted a surprised look at her.

“Have you seen this movie?”

“I have. Dad loves Monty Python,” she giggled, “I must confess I know very little about Istanbul or Turkey, but Hagia Sophia is on my list of places to visit.”

“Really? Then perhaps we could go together someday. I’d love to show you not only Hagia Sophia but all around the historical city.”

As Hamid described the beauties of Istanbul and enumerated the places he treasures, Elizabeth’s mind raced. On her stomach hundreds of butterflies trying to fly through her mouth at once. 

_He can’t be serious, can he? It’s too soon to say things like that! Isn’t it? And why do I want him to mean it?_

“This park is so beautiful!” she exclaimed, changing the subject, “I think it’ll be perfect for cycling.”

“You can rent a bike outside. It’s very practical,” Hamid said, and his hand brushed hers not entirely by accident, “If you ever need company…”

“I’ll let you know,” she said shyly and let him hook his little finger with hers.

“I’ve told you a lot about myself and I still don’t know much about you besides you being a beautiful heiress…” As intended, she blushed.

“What do you want to know?” she said tucking a few curls behind her ear.

“From what I’ve researched online, I assume you’re not an artist as your mother.”

“Oh, you assumed correctly. I’m too shy to be on the stage,” she said, “I’m a law undergrad. I was on my fifth semester of college in Brazil, but I transferred to King’s College, which will delay my studies a little. Well, actually a lot.”

“Your father studied Business and your mother is an opera singer. Why Law?”

“You’ll think I’m silly and laugh…”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He tilted his head looking her in the eyes.

She considered his friendly expression for a moment and drew in a deep breath.

“To help people. You obviously heard about Brazil’s inequality and the many human rights violations, right?”

He nodded and they resumed walking.

“Since before I started college, I knew I wanted to aid people in need of legal assistance who couldn’t afford an attorney. There are so many violations against women and children, perpetrated by abusive partners, by the State, you name it… That’s why I became an intern at the Public Defender’s Office.”

“Then I assume you’re not going into corporate Law or taking over your father’s businesses one day.”

“Not if I’m given the choice.”

“Why? You know the business world needs people with ethics and social responsibility too.”

“I know, but I’m not cut out for this. Besides Edmund is doing a good job. Why change this?”

“It’s good you have a choice then.”

“It is and most people aren’t as lucky. And that’s awful and I wish things were different.” Her mind drifted for a moment to the many stories heard from plaintiffs at the Public Defender’s Office. “That’s why I hope to be a human rights attorney someday and advocate for bigger changes. The work of people like Amal Alamuddin inspires me…”

“Nothing you said was silly… People might call you an idealist and this shouldn’t offend you, because idealism fuel the changes in the world,” he said softly, “Besides you may hold much more power to transform things than you realise.”

“How come?” asked Elizabeth, with a confused expression.

“You have your family’s seat in the Parliament. One day, it could be you there advocating for what you believe.”

“Not likely. I’m not a politician like my father is and how Harry was being trained to be! I… well… I can barely speak with you, Hamid… I’m shy and awkward. I stutter when I’m nervous… Can you image the disaster of me addressing the Houses? Or… Or trying to convince people and… Oh, God… It’d be horrible!” Her hand touched her chest, where her heart was pounding fast, and she took a deep breath.

His hand brushed her arm and he said softly, “You can learn how to do all of that, if you wish. You spoke with such confidence and you didn’t stutter. Not even once. Not until you started doubting yourself.” He gave her a meaningful look. “But doing this or not, should be your choice. Not somebody else’s.”

“Alright. I believe I’ve talked too much already.”

“I enjoy learning about you… There’s too little _online_ to fulfil my curiosity_.._. I haven’t even found your _Pictagram_ or _Twitter_ accounts.”

“As my grandmother says: a lady must keep an air of mystery,” she said with a small smirk and pointed to a kiosk, “Do you want an ice-cream, Hamid? My treat.”

“Sure.”

From the bench where they sat, both watched people walking and cycling by them. Between licks of his hazelnut ice-cream, Hamid entertained her with stories and curiosities about the park.

“You know so much about the city… I bet most Londoners don’t know half the things you’re telling me.”

“I’m curious and eager to learn as much as I can of any new place I visit or live in.”

“That’s why you’ve chosen to become a diplomat?”

“That’s one of the reasons,” he replied, “My family has a long tradition serving our country. There were envoys since the Ottoman Empire. My father being a diplomat himself had a huge impact on me. When it was the time to choose, it felt like a natural choice.”

“You’re pursuing a master’s degree. Aren’t you interested in an academic career?”

“No. At least not in the immediate future. A life experiencing new cultures is more appealing to me.”

“So you don’t like staying in the same place…”

“If I were to be at the same place, I’d have roots as a tree. Since I clearly don’t,” he chuckled, his hand pointing to his feet, “I move around.”

An insincere closed-lip smile to try to conceal the moment the butterflies became rocks on her stomach. An unexpected sadness tightened her throat, while he spoke about a few places he’s eager to visit next.

Once his teeth chewed on the cone, she asked to placate the voice screaming inside her head, “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Is this a job interview?” he chuckled and turned on the bench to face her.

“Can’t I be interested in learning more about you?” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“You can,” he said with a grin, “Five years? Let me see… Hopefully I’d be at the position I’m dreaming about. Maybe I’d be pursuing a Doctoral degree. Humm… It’s possible. I have a few ideas for a thesis.”

“Where would be this position?” she dared ask.

“China.”

“Really? Not London or Paris?” she gapped.

“The position I aspire in European capitals is occupied by senior diplomats. Five years is not nearly enough to become one of them. I’m overqualified to my post here but I have little chance to be promoted anytime soon.”

“Then you plan on leaving anytime now?”

“Not immediately, but I must leave Europe at some point. I already applied for positions in Hong Kong and Mumbai. Both are below the post I desire, but I could progress faster and gain more experience there. Staying here means being stuck at the same position for years or eventually accept my father’s interference… Which I don’t want to.”

“You want to advance with your own efforts. That’s impressive, considering your father is the Minister and you could have it much easier…”

“My father truly believes in my potential and thinks I’m wasting my time. Though he means well, I wish to fly with my own wings.” he smiled mischievously, “And I must confess that I love the idea of exploring a new country from time to time.”

The ice-cream didn’t make it easier to swallow the lump on her throat as he spoke about his plans.

“So that’s why you’re learning Mandarin.”

“And I also want to get my food orders right.” He winked and she remained silent.

_Whoa! That’s exactly the opposite of how I imagined this would go. He seems like a nice guy, but long-distance relationships don’t work. And I don’t want one. I had those with my father. And with Harry. How could I have some else I loved across the world? Besides, someone like him would find a new lover in the blink of an eye… For a moment, I thought this date was actually going great – Oh! Maybe it’s not even a date! Perhaps he’s just being nice because he knows dad… Or needs something from him… Or…”_

“Are you done with your ice-cream, Elizabeth?” He pointed to the half-eaten cone where the mint cream had melted. And her teeth bitten it with crunching sounds until its last piece.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

“Oh! I was just…” she wiped her mouth with a napkin, “I was thinking that… uhm… You’ve got your future planned. It’s good. I’m still figuring things out,” she rose to her feet at once, “Is that a lake over there?”

Hamid trailed behind observing her black skirt swaying from side to side with her quick steps and her long curls bouncing as she distanced from him.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she said, when his shadow projected on the ground besides hers.

“Didn’t I tell you my favourite spots would become yours too?” Hamid said softly and his arm brushed hers, and she felt goosebumps upon her skin.

Peeking at his watch, he invited her to follow him and soon they were out of the park and back on the streets, where he indicated cafes, buildings and stores that could interest her

His voice was enchanting, and he was a delightful company, but she couldn’t help but feel an unfamiliar kind of disappointment. The recurring thought this would be their first and last date caused an even bigger lump to form on her throat. 

The man grabbed her hand stopping her in front of an eclectic building. A neoclassic facade with colonnade sided by a glass structure that unveiled the interior.

“This building is amazing. What is it?”

“It’s the Royal Opera House.”

“Seriously? My mom used to sing here!” she exclaimed, her mouth ajar.

“I know! I arranged a special guided tour for us,” Hamid said with an ear-to-ear smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Jedi - a member of the mystical knightly order in the Star Wars films, who had some special mental powers;  
2\. Obi-wan Kenobi - one of the Jedi knights in the Star Wars films, played by Ewan McGreggor and Alec Guiness;  
3\. Padawan - A Jedi pupil or student, or broadly used as anyone that is an apprentice.


	7. Chapter Six - Bitter Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This is my submission to the Choices October Challenge – The Prompt: 3. Almost Kiss.  
* Mentions to illness and death.  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Standing outside the Royal Opera House, where his father fell in love with her mother, Elizabeth’s eyes darted from the façade to her companion’s face. Jaw dropped open, it took a moment for her tongue to reconcile with the ability to speak.

“A guided tour? To the Royal Opera House?” she asked bewildered, “Are you serious, Hamid? How did you even –?”

“I can google too.” He winked.

“But they don’t offer guided tours…”

“They don’t? Then it helps knowing the right people.” He grinned and intertwined his fingers with hers.

The gesture caused her lips to curve into a coy smile and freed the butterflies to fly again on her stomach. Her small hand fitted perfectly in his as they walked together alongside the colonnade, only parting when they reached the revolving door.

“I’ll let them know we’re here.” He pulled his mobile off his pocket and started typing a message.

Meanwhile she wandered to the box office, a few steps away from where he stood. Green eyes opened wide observed it all with interest and, from time to time, lingered on Hamid. 

The diplomat is destined to leave, as he admitted. A fact that her fully functioning faculties have processed. However, regardless of barely knowing him or the imminent depart, she craved to kiss him. Her brain is aware of how terrible this persistent idea is. Nonetheless, it seemed she couldn’t chase it away. Every cell of her body cheering her to do it. Only this once take a chance.

_How inappropriate would it be if I just went over there and threw my arms around him? _

As if sensing her stare, his gaze met hers and he beamed. Her heart thumped faster and louder. Cheeks burning with heat, she whirled around and pretended to read about the upcoming presentations.

The sound of heels tapping on the marble floor caught her attention and she looked over her shoulder. A blond and lean woman in her late twenties with long legs made a beeline towards Hamid. They greeted in what Elizabeth assumed was Russian and she kissed his cheeks.

“I thought you forgot me!”

“You’re unforgettable and you look beautiful as always, Natasha.”

_I’m so stupid! It’s definitely not a date if we’re meeting his “friends”…_

Hamid took a step back, an unfaltering smile curving his lips.

“Let me introduce you to the friend I mentioned on the phone.”

“Oh, _the_ friend.” The blond gave him a knowing look.

“This is Elizabeth Foredale.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Natasha Ivanova.” A hand extended to shake the other woman’s hand.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Natasha is a ballerina at the Royal Ballet, and she offered to take us on a special tour.”

“You’re very kind.” Elizabeth offered an insincere smile, the kind learned from her grandmother while growing up as a polite lady and used on multiple occasions.

“My dear friend Hamid deserves all the best,” the blond spoke patting his arm.

“You’ll spoil me…”

“But in return I expect you at opening night. No excuses.” Her index finger pressed against his chest and she fixed her baby blue eyes directly at his.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be in Brussels that whole week. Working,” he pouted.

“You work too much. It’s not fun anymore,” she huffed.

“But I’ll try to come and watch at a regular night.”

“Please, do. It’ll be better than rehearsals. Now, wait here. I’ll get clearance with security.”

“Natasha is pretty,” Elizabeth said once the woman distanced from them.

Hamid turned around with a puzzled look.

“I presume she’s one of your ‘friends’,” she said stressing the last word, averting his gaze.

“Oh, no! Nothing like that,” he chuckled and waved his hands. “We met in Russia. Sometimes I watch her rehearsals. We’re friends friends.”

_Does she know it? _The question whispered by the green-eyed monster remained unspoken.

Her eyes following Hamid’s black shoes as they moved closer and closer until she breathed his fresh perfume again.

“You didn’t ask, but,” he whispered at her ear, “I am not dating anyone. In fact, it’s been a while…”

Louder than the fireworks at Copacabana during _Réveillon_ her heart pounded, and she wondered if he could hear it too.

A sideways glance and she was aware of how close his lips were. If she only lifted her chin… Her breath hitched and his chest heaved with a deep inhale. _Has he thought the same?_

“Got you passes!”

Natasha’s voice resonated behind them and, startled, Elizabeth jumped back.

The blond snickered and guided them inside.

The trio moved forward, going down a staircase covered with a red carpet and through a dim lit corridor. As the woman showed them around and spoke about the recent renovations, Elizabeth observed the busts on the hallway with curiosity.

They visited the theatre and she saw up close the stage where her mother used to perform. The mobile pulled from the bag and she clicked a few times. Mementos for the future.

Overjoyed, she sat next to Hamid in one of the front row seats. Her gaze moved from the stage to a private box and she pictured her father watching her mother singing so many years ago. The thought brought a smile to her lips and she confided the reason to the man at her side, who beamed at her.

Natasha walked to the stage and shared details of the choreography. Moving with unsurprisingly grace, the blond delivered a brief performance to their amusement.

“Bravo!” Hamid clapped before helping her off the stage, as requested.

Arms thrown around Hamid’s shoulder on the way down, she leaned to whisper in his ear. The scene caused Elizabeth’s eyes to roll to the ceiling. At least the elaborated gold trimmed dome was stunning, and she clicked it too, ignoring the other two for a second.

“I got a surprise for you,” Natasha spoke in a cheerful tone pointing to Elizabeth.

“For me?” She frowned with confusion and casted a look at Hamid, who simply raised both hands with a bemused expression.

Their steps resonating in the long empty corridor, until the ballerina stopped and opened a door, “Wait here.”

Hamid and Elizabeth acquiesced, and with a hand on her back, he led her inside a well-lit dressing room. The large mirror illuminated by numerous lamps caught the young woman’s attention, and she discreetly checked her appearance and her fingers went to her hair, pulling a few curls back.

“I would have loved to be an actor,” Hamid said over his shoulder and his gaze returned to a photograph on the wall, “In high school I was in a few plays, and I really enjoyed myself.”

“Really?” she asked stepping closer, casting a glance at his wistful expression, “Were you any good?”

“I’m not humble enough to deny that I was remarkably good. According to the school newspaper I excelled at playing Mercutio and captured the essence of Shakespeare’s writing.”

“Quite a compliment,” she said, “Any special reason for not pursuit a career?”

He shrugged and examined other pictures. She wondered if it had something to do with his father’s plans before she repeated his gesture. Her eyes scanning numerous images of opera and ballet productions.

Amongst the black and white portraits, there was one familiar face. A signed close-up of her mother on stage clothes, her dark eyes closed and her face expressing the deep emotions from her singing. Next, there was a posed photo of the cast of _Carmen_; her mother was smiling and holding a bouquet of roses surrounded by other many faces.

“I can’t believe it…” she mumbled.

Hamid walked behind her and looked at the pictures over her shoulder.

“Is that your mother?” He pointed and she nodded. “You have her smile.”

“People say so,” she spoke softly, and her gaze lingered on the frozen smiling face. Pressing her tongue against the palate, she fought back the dampness pooling in her eyes.

The door opened again, and a woman all dressed in black, with fair skin and hair as black as a crow, on her early fifties, walked inside; Natasha trailing behind.

“Hamid. Long-time no see! You look well.”

“Hello, Nora! I’m better now seeing you. You look as beautiful as always,” Hamid said with a smile.

“Oh! I know,” she said, lifting a hand to her hair and coquettishly smoothing it, before her gaze found Elizabeth, “Is that Maria’s daughter?”

Beaming, her brown eyes focused on the young woman’s face as she crossed the distance.

“Hello, my darling! I’m Nora Lemay. I had the privilege to perform with your mother.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lemay. I’m Elizabeth!” she smiled back.

“Just Nora. I already feel too old around your pretty baby faces,” she pointed out, and the back of her left-hand brushed Hamid’s clean shaved cheek.

“I would recognize you anywhere. I can see Maria in you. But also a lot of your father. Your beauty is a perfect combination of those two,” Nora stated and clasped her hands.

“Did you know my father?”

“I was here when they first met!”

“Really?” asked Elizabeth and her eyes lightened up. Stories about her parents always have her undivided attention.

“I watched them fall in love like a cheesy rom-com, my dear. Did you know he came to every single performance of _Carmen_ just to see her?”

“No, I don’t think they ever told me that… I know they met after one of the presentations, though.”

“Oh, they did. Opening night. Your father convinced the producer to take him backstage. It wasn’t a difficult task since your father is who he is.” She gave Elizabeth a meaningful look, before resuming. “I remember when he made his way inside the dressing room we shared like he owned the place. He was such an elegant man! – Well, he still is! – And a true romantic. He’d sent a huge bouquet of lilies before and after every performance.”

“Lilies are her favourite flowers.”

Elizabeth reminisced how her mother would bring bouquets of white lilies to embellish their living room and now she wonders if it reminded her of him.

“And he was the most persistent too, if I may say so. For two weeks, they’ve talked and flirted and Maria refused every single invitation to have dinner with him.”

“Why?” Hamid asked baffled.

“Because he was engaged at the time, that’s why. To the Countess,” she scowled, “And Lord Vincent was a rising name in politics. With all the attention on him, Maria had no interest in a scandal or jeopardise her place at the company.”

“What made her change her mind?” Elizabeth asked.

“One night, the bouquet was wrapped in a newspaper and there was a note about the breakup. From that day on they were inseparable. They were already in love.”

As Nora spoke, the corners of Elizabeth’s lips curved into a large smile and she could picture them together.

“Your father was drawn to your mother as if she was a siren calling him to the bottom of the sea and he’d happily drown.” The woman giggled at her own banter. “But that wasn’t surprising at all, if you ask me. She was gorgeous! Have you seen the pictures? Our greatest stars are on these walls.”

Nora sashayed to where they’ve stood before; Elizabeth and Hamid trailed behind. Natasha, on her turn, remained leaning against a wall ignoring their conversation while typing on the mobile.

“That golden bronze skin and those eyes! And her voice…”

The woman closed her eyes and Hamid and Elizabeth shared a look and a soundless chuckle before she resumed the dramatic pause.

“Maria has such a powerful voice, one of the most incredible artists I had the pleasure to know! The audience loved her and – I’m babbling! You don’t need me to tell you that!”

“I love to hear stories about her.”

“I couldn’t believe when I heard she retired from the stage.”

“She became a teacher…”

“It’s been almost ten years since I last saw her. How’s she? Is she at London too?”

The questions she wished to avoid finally ringing in the air. Under Nora’s expectant gaze, Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump on her throat.

“No… Actually my mother…” she stuttered, “She passed away… About three months ago.”

Her words drew all eyes to her. Hamid’s were the widest and his expression fell.

“Oh, dear! I’m terribly sorry for your loss! She was such a bright soul! And still so young…” Nora said in a sorrowful tone.

Inching closer, Hamid’s hand hung in the air for a moment before he touched her arm and grabbed her hand.

“Elizabeth,” he said softly, and his thumb caressed her knuckles with gentleness, “I’m so sorry! I had no idea… I should have –”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t possibly know… She’s retired from stage and…” her wobbly voice faltered. The free hand hiding the tears rolling down her face as Elizabeth mumbled incomprehensible words.

“I’ll give you privacy,” Natasha said in a low voice on her way out.

“I’ll wait outside too,” Hamid said releasing Elizabeth’s hand.

“Stay,” she asked softly, and her hand reached for his, “Please.”

Stepping back, Hamid nodded, and her small cold hand was clasped between both of his.

“Let it all out, dear,” Nora said and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Stay here as long as you wish.”

In a second the door closed behind the woman with a soft click.

Elizabeth agreed with the man’s suggestion and sat on the chair in front of the dressing table. He produced a box of tissues from the table and placed on her hand and crouched beside her, a despondent expression in his face.

“Can I get you water or anything else?”

“No… I’m fine… It was just too much… I…” She rubbed the tissue on her eyes and returned the box to the table, avoiding his gaze. “It’s still painful talking about her death… And after those stories…”

“I’m truly sorry about your mother.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry about this… we’ve just met…”

“It’s alright. Take your time,” he said softly.

She wiped the flow of tears running down her cheeks and brushed her hands against her skirt, letting them rest on her knees.

Hamid grabbed one of her hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you sure you want me here? I can give you privacy, if you like.”

“You may go if it’s too awkward.” The words that left her mouth were the opposite of her wish, as she held his hand tighter. “I know it’s too much for some people…”

Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and walked behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders for a moment and he gave them a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll stay. For as long as you wish,” he said and sat beside her.

With mouth agape, she observed him, with his hands on his knees and a sympathetic look on his face.

“Do you want to talk about it, Elizabeth?”

“There’s not much to talk, really,” she pursed her lips.

_Why is he staying? We just met. Léo would avoid this kind of talk like the plague. _

“Well, you can talk or not talk,” he suggested, “We can just sit here, okay?”

Inhaling deeply, she nodded, and they did not speak for a long moment. Suddenly she’s found her tongue and Hamid focused his attention on her shaky and quiet voice. Her hand fidgeting with a clean tissue.

“She was sick for so long, Hamid. Almost five years. She got better for a while and we thought she’d be alright… But then… She’s gotten worse. Then much worse. Her last months were horrible through and through…”

“It must have been hard on you.”

“It was hard on both of us…” she sighed, “Sometimes I felt so lonely and tired…”

She inhaled deeply and he reached for her hand reassuringly.

“When the cancer came back, she wanted to send me to England. But how could I leave?”

Once her mouth opened again, she couldn’t stop the string of words escaping from her tongue. For the next few minutes, she told him about the struggles since the diagnosis. A part of her life that hardly anyone knows about. Not even her father heard of such details.

“There was this moment that…” she said amongst sobs, “I still hoped she’d magically heal… I prayed for more time… I prayed and prayed and…”

“It’s okay.” He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“It was selfish…”

“It’s natural. You loved her.”

“I miss her, Hamid… I miss her so much,” she said with a shaky voice and nuzzled her head on his chest.

He enveloped her with his arms and whispered soothing words against her hair. Her sobs filled the room, until her body relaxed encircled by his warm embrace and stopped shaking.

“That’s so embarrassing… We just met and I’m crying in front of you…” she took another tissue from the box, “And oversharing. I normally don’t talk about any of this…”

“It’s fine. To be honest, I was partially responsible for making you cry…”

“True.” She contemplated herself in the mirror, with reddened nose and ruined makeup. “Then I’ll blame you for looking like a mess,” she teased, looking at his unsmiling face reflected in the mirror.

His unblinking eyes following the tissue erasing the dark trails of tears and makeup down her cheeks.

“Not a good day for non-waterproof mascara.”

“If I knew, I’d never have brought you here… I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to surprise you like this…” A serious tone and expression on his face.

“Don’t say that…” She swivelled and reached out. Her small hand resting upon his larger one. “We just met and you planned this tour and you introduced me to Nora. That’s… That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me!”

“Are you serious? I made you cry. It’s the worst first date of all times.”

“Is it a date?”

“And it just got worse…. I though it was clear –”

She failed to stifle a giggle and his eyes widened.

“You’re mocking me!” his voice raised with surprise.

“A little…” she said softly.

“At least you’re smiling.”

“And so are you.”

***** 

“I better go home,” she said staring at the pavement as they left the building.

“Why?” he asked, taken aback. “Aren’t you enjoying the tour? Aside the last thirty minutes, of course.”

“I was… But I kinda ruined the mood with all the crying…”

“Which we agreed I was to be blamed… Let me cheer you up. I’ll take you to the best _patisserie_ outside of France.”

Pondering over his words and embarrassed by the things she shared with him, she pursed her lips and studied his face for a moment. His expression was soft and ease like it had been before her outburst.

A wide grin on his lips, before he opened them again to speak.

“I could tell you about the near international incident at Russia…” 

“Seriously? Alright. Now you piqued my interest,” she smiled.

“Come with me, it’s not far from here and I’ll tell you all about it when we get there.”

*****

“Everything looks so good,” she said as her eyes inspected the perfectly arranged pastries and the colourful macarons behind the glass, “What do you recommend?”

“My favourite is the _mille-feuilles_. Both flavours are delicious. But the _éclair au chocolat_ is also good and reminds me the one I used to have near _le Jardin du Luxembourg_.”

“Then, I’ll have one _éclair_. You can’t go wrong with chocolate, right?”

The rhetoric question replied with a wide smile, like the numerous ones he offered her on their way.

“Do you want coffee, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, please. Black, no milk and no sugar.”

Her words causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“What? It tastes nice with the sweet, Hamid.”

“I know.” He winked. “Wait for me at the table, I’ll get our orders.”

“Here.” She extended a bill to him and he shook his head repeatedly.

“My treat.”

Sitting by the window, her eyes were drawn to the street. The rumble of the cars and a siren ringing in the distance caught her attention for a while, before her mind drifted to today’s events and the contradictory feelings Hamid is eliciting on her.

Absentmindedly, her fingers fidgeted with the purse’s zipper resting on her lap.

_Hamid is nice and sweet and he’s so accommodating; but a lady’s man whatsoever, he can’t even hide it. Everything he does is calculated to impress… It was a bit ironic how it backfired with this date and he’s trying to bounce it back._

Sensing his gaze upon herself, her head jerked to the counter across the cafe. His wide smile rewarded with an equally wide from her.

_It’s just coffee and then I’m leaving. I’ll thank him for the tour and that’s it. If he _asks_ something, I’ll tell him we can’t date._

“I ordered a croissant for you too.”

“Thanks.”

Sitting across from each other, the couple talked as if they were old friends.

Moving freely, his hands acting out his words when he told her about the gaffe at the dinner party with Russian authorities.

Elizabeth let out a loud laugh, unconcerned with the heads that turned at that direction.

A few words whispered in Russian, then his head tipped back with laughter. Her hand brushed her eyes to wipe the tears.

After a couple of his tales and moans of delight elicited by the pastries, she shared one story of her own.

“I can’t believe you did that?” he gaped.

“They dared me to. And I was never gonna let them win!”

“I can picture your grandmother’s exasperated expression!” he chuckled.

“She was absolutely mad with us. But Harry charmed our way out of it!” she cackled.

Each story leading to another one. With every smile decreased her resolve to tell him goodbye. 

Many customers walked inside and left the cafe, while the afternoon light gradually faded. The shadows of the buildings spreading over the street. Heavier coats on people’s backs as they moved past the window. Brighter lights were turned on inside and a young woman with dark eyes started cleaning the counter. Her tired gaze fixed on the last remaining customers.

“It’s already so dark outside.”

“It’s 8h30.”

“Oh! I didn’t realise it was so late!”

“Time does fly when you’re having fun.”

“Shoot! I’ve missed dinner,” she exclaimed.

“Then let me take you to dinner. I know a place.” He winked.

“Aren’t you tired of me?” A small smirk on her lips as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t think I’ll get tired of your company anytime soon,” he said softly, “I could stay here with you all night…”

“The waitress is clearly growing tired of us…” She tipped her head. “We better go,” Elizabeth suggested, lowering her eyes and trying to hide the blush on her cheeks as she put the scarf back on.

*****

As soon as Hamid opened the door, the cold wind blew through her, tousling her long hair and the loose ends of the scarf. Her lips quivered and the jeans jacket was pulled tighter around her body.

“You’re cold.”

“Just a little…”

“You’re shaking,” he pointed out, “Here, take my jacket.”

“Then you’ll be cold, Hamid.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Standing in front of her, he enveloped her shoulders with the jacket. His hands grabbed the lapels and pulled it tight, shielding her body from the wind.

The closeness caused her breath to hitch. The increasing thunderous pounding of her heart dissipating the rumble of the vehicles and every other noise from this busy part of the city.

His right hand went to her face, and he twirled one of her curls and smiled. Then the back of his fingers caressed her skin with unparalleled gentleness.

If all the hair on her body had not stood on end due to the cold breeze, they would certainly have now.

Her gaze fixed on his mouth, hypnotized by the way his tongue parted his lips and erased the smile that was there a mere second ago. Inevitable to wonder if his lips would feel as warm and soft against her own as they did yesterday while touching the back of her hand.

When Hamid’s hand cupped her cheek, her gaze moved up to his intense ocean blue eyes half-closed and framed by long dark lashes.

Elizabeth’s mind was invaded by many thoughts that precede any first kiss, and she also licked her lips in anticipation. Oblivious to the faceless individuals walking in a hurry past them. Everything else in the world blurred when the smell of coffee in his breath reached her nose.

His eyes fixed on hers, when she flinched and her head whipped to the left following the light.

“Have you seen that?”

“Seen what?” Hamid asked his head jerking to the same direction.

“The flashing light. Did someone just take a picture?”

“Well… I don’t mean to be rude, but this is London. There’s a million tourists wandering around, photographing everything…”

“I suppose… Are you not worried it could be a paparazzo taking pictures of us?”

“Why should I?” He shrugged. “Are you concerned?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” she said looking around.

Hamid’s arms fell to his sides and he distanced from her.

“Maybe I should be. It’s been a while since I last had to worry about people following me and taking pictures…” _And judging me, my manners and looks._

“I’ll walk you home,” he said sliding his hands in his pockets.

*****

The ten-minute walk back to her father’s house was mostly silent. Hamid kept his distance, but from time to time, she’d catch his gaze on her face, lingering on her lips.

The street was quiet, and Elizabeth observed the curtains drawn closed in the first floor. Hamid’s eyes did the same, scanning the facade and the deserted street.

“Here. Thanks for your jacket.”

“Anytime.” He swiftly put it back on.

“I should get inside,” she said hugging herself, “I had a lovely time, Hamid. Thank you!”

“So have I, Elizabeth.” He stepped closer and said softly, “And I’m eager to see you again. Can I take you out Saturday night?”

“Sorry. There’s this dinner party and according to grandma it’ll take most of the day to get me polished as if I’m some piece of silverware or something…” she mumbled.

“Sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying…”

“Never mind. I’m… I’m not free. Sorry.”

“That’s a shame… There’s this French restaurant near my flat…” He leaned closer, and his fingers trailed on each side of her face and tucked her hair behind the ears.

Goosebumps elicited on her and she knew it had little to do with the cold breeze. Her chin was tipped up by his index finger and his ocean blue eyes staring at her lips, as they have been many times today. His warm breath fanning her reddened cheek. A flow of thoughts invaded her mind. 

“Hamid, you’re a very nice guy… and I’m usually very uncomfortable with new people. But –”

“Oh, no. You were doing so well…” He grabbed her hand and placed it over his chest, covering with both of his. “Please, don’t break my heart, Elizabeth.”

He said in a sing-song voice and she took a deep breath.

“Sorry, Hamid… But I…” she mumbled while her eyes fixed on their hands.

“Forgive me. I jest…” His hand touched her face. “It’s alright. Nothing to apologise for.”

“Sorry. I know it’s not what you expected.”

“To be honest, I expected you to cancel after you googled me,” he said softly.

“Why?”

“My fame…”

“Oh, that? It’s not that… It’s just… The timing. It’s all wrong.”

“The timing?”

“I just got here and you’re about to leave…”

“I won’t leave tomorrow.”

“Maybe not tomorrow, but soon…”

“Why did I tell you that?” he looked to the heavens and shook his head slowly.

“Would you hide it from me?”

“No, of course not. But I’d rather discuss that after our tenth date, or perhaps the twelfth…”

“I’m glad you told me sooner, so no one gets hurt,” she said offering her free hand for a shake, “It was really nice meeting you, Hamid.”

“Wait! You don’t want to see me anymore?” he frowned.

“No. I mean yes. I’d like to see you again. But I can’t date you and I –”

“Elizabeth.”

“Yes?”

“None of this changes the fact that I really had a great time with you today. If you’re interested, I could use a friend like you.”

“Aren’t you upset?”

“A bit disappointed, I can’t deny it… You are beautiful and I was about to kiss you.”

She lowered her gaze and he released her hand.

“But keep in mind I can’t help it if my charms make you fall helplessly in love with me.”

“Are you always like that?”

“Like what? Confident? Charming?” He tilted his head grinning at her.

“Not the words I was looking for…” She mirrored his expression, almost unable to hold the laugh.

“What about cycling at Hyde Park and brunch Saturday morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Then it’s _not_ a date.”


	8. Chapter Seven - It’s time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

In the blink of an eye Saturday night came. The buzzing of the preparations and the agitation amongst the servants since the prior day was little by little replaced by a strange peace in the immediate hour before the party begins.

Alone in her room, Elizabeth put on the strappy sandals and got up from the bed a bit unbalanced. The reflection on the mirror was almost unrecognizable. The long emerald gown sparkled as she smoothed the fabric. 

The hair straightened and pulled into a tight updo, the makeup and the luxurious one shoulder dress seemed more appropriate to a red-carpet diva, she thought.

While putting the diamond earrings, a family heirloom her grandmother left in her room earlier, a notification popped on the screen of her mobile. Taking the device in her hand, the message from Hamid instantly caused the corners of her lips to curve upwards.

For the next twenty minutes, chatting with him eased her tension and she laughed almost as often as she did this morning in his company. Precious minutes to forget about the need of being perfect.

The perfume of the many flowers hangs on the air. Even on the second floor it reached her nostrils and it reminded her of the gardens at Edgewater.

Gliding on the hallway, she leaned over the balustrade for a moment. As a soldier, Arthur Woods standing upright, hands on his back and extremely focused as her grandmother gave him instructions. The woman’s face as serene as usual.

It’s time. Just breathe, she remembered of Hamid’s words. A deep breath drawn in, summoning tranquillity and courage. Then she went down the stairs under the satisfied gaze of the elderly woman. The butler’s lips showed a small smile before he excused himself.

“You look absolutely marvellous, my dear!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Vincent’s voice echoed before his footsteps brought him to her side.

She blushed and he offered his arm to lead her to the parlour. Keeping her shy and polite demeanour, Elizabeth was introduced to the guests. Fifteen would be joining them this evening.

“Elizabeth, I want to introduce you to a dearest friend of mine,” her grandmother said as they approached an elegant blond older woman.

“Bernadette Sinclaire. Do you remember my granddaughter Elizabeth?”

“How could I forget her? I still can picture you reading one of your books on the bench by the lake,” the woman said, turning all her attention to the young woman, “You have grown into such a fine young lady!”

“I’m pleased to meet you again, Mrs. Sinclaire.”

“How have you been enjoying London so far?”

“I am very pleased to be here, and the very little I had the opportunity to see was absolutely perfect.”

“You must join me and your grandmother for tea sometime.”

Elizabeth acquiesced and the elderly women talked about the arrangements. After a few pleasantries, the subject changed to the absence of Mr. Sinclaire.

“Regretfully, my grandson is not joining us this evening.”

“How unfortunate!”

“Indeed. A last-minute affair. He called on his way to the Court House.”

“Ernest is such a hard-working young man.”

“That boy will work himself to exhaustion,” Mrs. Sinclaire said in an exasperated tone.

“I was expecting to introduce him to Elizabeth tonight…” Dominique sighed.

“You should come to the house to have dinner with me and Ernest,” the woman said looking at Elizabeth, “My dear, you will have many topics of conversation with my grandson. Ernest also attended King’s College. I can already see you two getting along…”

Vincent waved at her, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to excuse herself to entertain other guests. With Mr. Sinclaire’s absence, she wouldn’t be required, on top of everything else, to charm this bachelor she might or might not have met many years ago. Relief washed over her.

After greeting the last guests, she distanced herself from the many faces that surrounded her father. Sitting in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, she pulled her mobile out of her golden handbag. Her thumb hovered over two pictures for a second. Instead of Renata’s, she clicked on Hamid’s and started typing. 

Two shadows projecting on the floor and her eyes moved from the mobile to the couple approaching. Edmund Marlcaster and a woman with brown hair carefully braided marched in her direction. Reluctantly, the mobile returned to its place at the clutch and she raised to her feet.

“Lady Elizabeth, I hope you are having a pleasant evening,” Edmund said in a surprisingly formal tone.

“It’s quite pleasant, Mr. Marlcaster, as I wish yours have been so far,” she replied mimicking the formality, almost failing to hold the giggle inside her mouth.

“Miss Theresa Sutton, may I introduce you to Lady Elizabeth of Edgewater?”

“Nice to meet you!” The woman said excitedly, and they shared a smile.

“Oh, you look taller in person. And one would never know you come from a slum,” Theresa said with awe and Elizabeth’s eyes widened and darted to Edmund’s stern face.

“Theresa, that’s an utterly inappropriate remark,” he admonished her in a low voice.

“But I meant it as a compliment. I am being nice to her. Like you asked.”

“That’s not a compliment!”

They continued the conversation in hushed tones as if Elizabeth wasn’t standing before them and she considered walking away.

“Why would you even mention something like that?”

“The dress is lovely, and she looks pretty and refined in person and not poor at all. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t let designer clothes fool you, Theresa,” Henrietta snorted as she hovered around the trio and took a sip from the wine.

Elizabeth swivelled and glanced at the woman. Just breathe.

“A nice appearance can be very deceitful, indeed.” She pointedly looked her stepmother from head to toe and sighed. “If you would excuse me, I heard lady grandmother summoning me.”

“You dirty little…” Henrietta hissed and took a large gulp of her wine watching the young woman turning on her heels.

“Sorry,” Edmund lips moved soundless as Elizabeth walked past him.

“I didn’t hear a thing. Am I going deaf?” Theresa’s adenoidal voice ringed, “Maybe I am. That would be disastrous… We have tickets for the Opera next week…”

*****

Elizabeth’s fingers gliding fast on the screen of the mobile, when her father’s voice announced dinner would be served in five minutes and invited everyone to follow him to the dining room. His glance met his daughter’s and she nodded.

As customary, her father seat was the one on the head of the table. Elizabeth was guided to the seat at his left side. 

Henrietta and her vicious tongue across from her. Between bites of the food, the venom would spill throughout dinner, despite her father’s stern and censorious looks.

With Mr. Sinclaire’s absence, there were only two other people about her age: Edmund and his fiancée Theresa, thus her grandmother arranged for them to sit at Elizabeth’s side.

The terrible first impression, replaced by a bit of understanding. In her own way, Theresa acted with cordiality towards Elizabeth. The woman was pretty with her attentive brown eyes, which followed everything and everyone. However, her loud adenoidal voice apparently conveys whatever thought comes to her mind. Every unwelcomed comment prompting an exasperated huff from Edmund.

Their interactions made her wonder the reasons for her stepbrother to be engaged to someone he barely tolerates. A small crease between her eyebrows prompted by the thought.

*****

As Elizabeth has done in many occasions this evening, she found a quiet spot to exchange messages with Hamid. Until the sight of Arthur Woods with a tray nearby caught her attention.

“Arthur,” Elizabeth whispered when the empty champagne glass was transferred to his hand, “where is the secret passage in this room?”

“I’m afraid there is none here, my lady,” the butler struggled to keep a serious expression.

“Too bad!”

“Or perhaps there is and it’s just very well-concealed,” the man said softly.

“Thanks for restoring my hope. I’ll go check the frames on that side. You let me know if anything happens.” He returned her smile and bowed his head, moving to the next guest.

“Did you just ask Woods about a secret passage?”

“Why? Do you happen to know where it is, Ed?”

“I don’t believe there’s one. I’ve checked.” 

“Why do you crush my hopes, Marlcaster?”

He took a sip from his scotch and his blue eyes roamed around the room buzzing with simultaneous conversations.

“Are you as miserable as you look?” he asked, casting a sideways glance at her.

“Much more. My hair is pulled so tight my muscles are unable to frown.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It is. But not as painful as the longest and dullest conversation of my entire life…”

“You’ll get used to it…”

“Any advice on how to do that fast?”

“Alcohol.” Edmund raised his glass.

“I’m not much of a drinker myself… Would it be too dramatic if I faked a faint?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Theresa?”

“She’s with your grandmother… Babbling about some unimportant matter, I suppose.”

“How long till the party winds down?”

“Could be at least another hour…”

“Oh, boy!” she huffed and caught her father observing her.

“Are you enjoying the party, Eliza?” Vincent asked once he joined them at the corner.

“The party is lovely! I’m having a – “ 

Vincent’s blue eyes met hers and Elizabeth stopped talking and pursed her lips. The man has observed her in parties long enough to know when she was displeased.

“Would you care to join me in my study?”

“But grandma said I – ”

“Just follow me, darling” Vincent said and touched her elbow, “The invitation includes you too, Edmund. If you feel like joining us.”

Edmund gasped with the unpredicted invite and his mouth hung for a second, before the tumbler was taken to his lips and, with a large gulp, he drank the remaining of the liquor. The empty glass deposited on a tray on his way after them.

The imposing presence of the lord heading to the centre of the room drew every eye to him, and once he cleared his throat, the conversations faded. 

With the same solemn voice he uses in his speeches, he thanked the guests in Elizabeth’s name; the young woman standing by his side smiling politely. With a concerned face he asked to be excused due to an urgent matter, in which he needed both Elizabeth’s and Edmund’s assistance.

Dowager Countess Dominique frowned upon this part of his speech, familiar with this kind of deception. But she was the only one.

A few handshakes and the man crossed the room with elegance. Edmund and Elizabeth right behind him.

*****

Vincent filled three small glasses of Port. Closing the cabinet with a soft click, he took a seat at the sofa next to his daughter.

“Was the party too exhausting for you?”

“A little… But I’ll get used to it.” 

_I have no other choice._

He patted her arm with a soft smile, as if aware of her thoughts.

“I hope at least your morning was more pleasant. How was your date with Hamid?”

“It wasn’t a date and it was good.”

“Who is Hamid?”

“A friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, dad. Just a friend.”

“You should invite him over. That young man always has the most fascinating stories.”

“I’ll ask him… Maybe when he comes back from Belgium, we can have dinner.”

The subject quickly changed from Hamid to university. Vincent laughed while reminiscing of his own time as a student. Thirty minutes later, one of his stories interrupted by a yawn and the man decided on retiring to his room.

“Are you going to the church tomorrow?” She nodded. “That’s good. Mother will enjoy your company,” Vincent kissed the top of her head, “I will see you both at lunch afterwards.”

“Goodnight, dad!”

“Goodnight!”

“Aren’t you also going back to your room?” Edmund asked, eyes fixed on the closed door.

“Only if you’re already bored with my company…” she teased.

“Scotch?” Edmund moved to the cabinet.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head, “What about you? Aren’t you going back to the party?”

“In a moment.”

Her eyes upon him as he poured the drink.

“Theresa is nice.”

“She is. She is a good person, but…” he trailed off.

“She speaks a little too freely.”

“That’s an understatement,” he shook his head slowly, “I’m sorry about what she said earlier.”

“It’s alright. She already explained what she meant.”

“I’m glad you are on good terms with her,” he said and returned to his seat.

“Yeah, and I’m starting to like the idea of us being schoolmates.”

“I believe she said best friends,” Edmund chuckled behind his glass.

“Well… It’ll be nice to already know someone in uni for a change… It might be fun. Maybe we can even study together.”

“Don’t get too excited about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Theresa has little interest in getting a degree,” he sighed, “She only went to Law School because of her obnoxious friends. In more than one occasion she confided me she’d happily drop it once we set a date for the wedding.”

“Seriously?”

“Her dream, as she says, is to be married, have a bunch of children and be exactly like the Duchess of Cambridge, whatever that means…”

“That sounds odd to me, but if that’s what she wants…”

“Theresa is different from you. And from her friends. She doesn’t want to rule the world like the Queen Bee,” he scowled.

“Sorry?”

“Felicity Holloway,” he sighed, “If you’re willing to take a piece of advice, stay as far away as possible from her. She’s ruthless.”

“Or is she just a strong and confident woman, mate?” Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look.” He glanced at her and took a deep breath. The alcohol had tinted his cheeks with a slightly reddish hue and loosened his tongue. “That woman is just horrible. She treats Theresa horribly because she’s not interested in following that same path and she constantly reminds her of her upbringing… It’s just awful.”

“Poor Theresa…” Elizabeth sighed and considered Edmund’s expression, and a familiar concern, the same kind he’d express around Harry.

“You and Theresa are very different from each other. How did you meet?”

“I’ve known her for years. Our families are close… You know how this works.”

“I don’t think I do…”

Taking another large gulp from the scotch, the blond casted a glance at her, possibly considering carefully if he should explain himself. They were quiet for a while longer and the girl assumed the conversation was over.

“It’s convenient for us. Me and Theresa. She’s an heiress with no interest in her family’s business… While I have no business of my own.”

“What do you mean you have no business? What about Edgewater? Or dad’s company? You’re on the board.”

“You’re the heiress, Eliza. Not me.”

“Oh!” she gasped and tried to find the right words to say next. “But nothing has to change.”

“Your father will decide about that…”

“Is that the reason why you got engaged?”

“Mother convinced me it was a perfectly good arrangement.” He observed the amber liquid swirling inside the glass, avoiding her gaze. “And she’s right.”

“So, you’ll marry without love?”

“I… Well… I’ve grown fond of her.”

“You shouldn’t let your mother get in your head,” she muttered.

“Eliza, marriage is not much different from any other business.”

“Who broke your heart, dude?”

“Nobody broke my heart, dude,” he scoffed, “I’s just how it is. You’ll see. I’ve heard your grandmother making arrangements for you to meet Sinclaire.”

“I’m not looking for a husband!”

“Just wait. They will talk so much about his qualities. There will be many dinners. And outings. One day you’ll just think: ‘bloody hell, we should just marry already.’”

“What about love? Don’t you expect to fall in love someday?” Her questions softly leaving her lips.

“I don’t know…” He rubbed the light blond stubble on his chin and went quiet for a moment. “Have you ever been in love?”

“I don’t think so… No. But I think I might… Someday,” she shrugged and bit one of her nails. One particular face she couldn’t chase away from her mind caused her cheeks to blush.

The glass was placed on the side table and he leaned back in the armchair; she did the same.

“So, this Sinclaire dude everybody talks about –”

A low chuckle rolled from his throat and he shook his head slowly. 

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Hey, I just want a neutral opinion… How is he really like?”

“We’re not friends. I don’t have much of an opinion… But he’s a decent man, I suppose. Responsible. Workaholic.”

“Spill the tea, Ed, why is he not married if he’s so perfect as everyone says?”

“He used to be…”

“He’s divorced?”

“Yes. People don’t talk about it, but the wife was unfaithful. A scandalous affair. They divorced shortly after the wedding.”

“That’s horrible!”

“As you see, love is messy.”

*****

Walking fast in the corridor, Elizabeth panted while looking for the auditorium. Face still flushed from racing all the way from the other building.

_Thirty minutes sitting in the wrong auditorium! I can’t believe it! Who does that to people? Wait! Have I been to this corridor before? _

Glancing at the paper, the woman stopped to look around again.

_Why these doors look all the same? I should ask for directions._

A group of students walked past her and soon disappeared, before her slightly opened mouth could let any word slip and she resumed walking.

A tall man with fair skin and light brown hair, as glossy as caramel, in a dark grey suit swaggered in the same direction as her. With long strides a few metres behind her, the tapping of his shoes sole resonated on the corridor. His attention focused on the mobile.

_He could be a Professor. Maybe he can tell me which way to go._

Before she could turn around to properly address him, she got a glimpse of his stern face when he bumped into her shoulder, almost knocking her to the ground, joining the book that fell from her hand.

“Won’t you even apologise?” she said angrily, bending down to pick it up.

Barely acknowledging her, the man looked over his shoulder and kept walking. The click-clack of his shoes fading in the distance.

“What a jerk!” she mouthed as she picked the book from the floor.

“At least he was cute.”

The nasal voice resonated before she saw the brunette collecting the scattered papers from the floor. With a smile and a swift motion, they were returned to their owner.

“Thank you. But being cute doesn’t excuse him for being a jerk.”

“Of course not!” She shook her head and the black and long hair danced from side to side. “And in my experience the cuteness is usually proportional to the jerkiness.”

Her words followed by a fit of giggles that caused Elizabeth’s lips to turn upwards. The girl’s brown eyes studied the other’s expression for a moment.

“Are you lost?”

“A little,” said Elizabeth peeking at the crumpled paper, “And I’m running late.”

“Let me see,” she asked, with the palm up.

“You’re close. Third door on the right. If you reach the loo on that same side, you’ve gone too far.”

“Loo?”

“Toilet.”

“Of course!” she muttered, “Why do I keep forgetting this word?”

“American?”

“Half-Brazilian. My father is British.”

“Exchange student?”

“Transferred, actually.”

“You know, I’m going to that same auditorium. If you want to tag along…”

The invitation and kindness hit her with surprise, and it took her a second to reply, “Sure! That would be great! Thank you!” 

Side by side, they started walking and she glanced at Elizabeth.

“I’m Briar Daly, by the way.”

“Elizabeth,” she smiled back, “Nice to meet you.”


	9. Chapter Eight - Hear me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Crossing the large door, Elizabeth’s gaze inspected the auditorium. Numerous rows of red chairs, many already occupied. A familiar buzzing of simultaneous conversations in low voices. Eyes as curious as hers studying each incoming face. Apparently, first years have the same look no matter where you are, she thought.

Briar marched to the front of the auditorium, waving to a few people on the way, including one tall woman Elizabeth assumed was a speaker. Trailing behind the brunette, they sat on the fourth row, with a clear view of the stage.

The large bag resting on her lap along with her jacket, and bright eyes were taking it all in.

At the long desk, the speakers were taking their seats one by one. While some were making conversation, one of them kept his head low and eyes glued to his notes.

Dressed in an elegant and conservative black ensemble, the same strict looking young woman she met yesterday at the orientation marched on the stage. Her long blond and straight hair pulled into a bun, not a lock out of place.

Walking around with confidence and familiarity, Elizabeth pondered if she has sent her to the wrong building on purpose.

_Do they prank new students here? I should’ve asked dad or Edmund about it…_

The blonde reached the table and leaned towards the quiet man. When he tilted his chin up to look at her, Elizabeth recognized him as the jerk who bumped on her in the hallway and her brows furrowed involuntarily.

Loud tapping of shoes and her attention was drawn to another familiar face. Theresa Sutton crossed the stage and whispered to the blond. The two turned around facing the crowd and were joined by a third woman, with dark haired and bronze skin.

Theresa’s eyes met Elizabeth’s and she beamed and waved. The hand gesture returned by the latter. The blonde’s blue eyes casted Elizabeth an unexpected icy glare. Face darting to Theresa’s direction, words were hissed between perfect teeth.

A despondent expression erasing the giddy smile. Head hanging low, her stepbrother’s fiancée smoothed the skirt of the vintage blue dress and took a seat at the front row.

_Whoa! That was totally scary. Could that be Felicity?_

As if listening to her thoughts, Briar whispered, “That’s Felicity Holloway. Top of the class. Name an academic activity and she’s involved,” Briar lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone, “And a total bitch. Don’t tell Annabelle I’ve used this word.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth gaped.

“Never ever cross her,” she added with emphasis and a serious expression.

“You’re the second person to give me this kind of advice about her…”

“Better not ignore them.”

At the centre of the table, Felicity sat and greeted the audience and then the speakers, introducing each one of them. The rude man sitting by her side was the last one. An unexpected large smile on her face.

“Mr. Sinclaire. We’re very much pleased to have you here. Being such an occupied man as you are with the Foundation and your practice…”

Elizabeth grimaced as she heard the name.

_Is that Sinclaire? The Ernest Sinclaire everyone keeps talking about? Ugh! He’s so rude! I wonder why dad is so fond of him! _

“I didn’t recognize Mr. Sinclaire in the hallway. He looks taller in person. And way more attractive,” Briar whispered.

“Have you heard about him?”

“Who hasn’t? His work advocating for the refugees made him famous and both loved and hated,” said Briar in a low voice, “Besides, his foundation granted me a scholarship. So, yes, I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“A scholarship? I didn’t know he did that…”

She nodded and their eyes returned to the stage; Elizabeth’s observed Mr. Sinclaire with curiosity.

His unwavering stare wouldn’t move from his notes. Not a peek at the multitude of faces whose gazes were upon him. While the blond praised him, his cheeks turned rosy and his left hand covered his mouth.

Once it was his time on the microphone, the apparent shyness was forgotten. His voice clear and steady echoed in the silent auditorium.

Under her surprised gaze, the man transformed into one of those good lawyers from Hollywood movies. A glint in his blue eyes as he discoursed.

In the twenty minutes that followed, amongst the topics he addressed, the struggles with asylum cases and the importance to provide, specially to women, opportunities of work and the means to assure them the most fundamental rights. A brief explanation on how the Sinclaire Foundation granted scholarships and jobs to some of the refugees whose cases he’s worked on. By the end of his compelling discourse, she wouldn’t doubt many students would apply as volunteers to work with him. If he wasn’t a jerk, perhaps she’d do it as well.

Even after other speakers took their turns, her eyes returned to Mr. Sinclaire a few more times. Unpredictably, his eyes moved up and he caught Elizabeth staring at him. His blue eyes trained on her face for a moment before she blushed and looked away.

Finally, it was time for the only female speaker to address the audience. The tall woman raked her fingers through her long wavy brown hair and straightened herself. After the usual greetings, with a sardonic smile, she pushed the notes to the side.

“We’re all here today to talk to you about gender inequality. You have heard the data, the propositions, the sociological approach, the juridical concerns… According to my notes I was supposed to speak about the increasing gender pay gap in the UK and how the Brexit might impact the statistics and propose strategies to deal with it. Firstly, however, I invite you to take a hard look at the speakers sitting here this morning.”

As she paused, people shared apprehensive looks at one another and at the seven sitting in the front.

“I won’t question anyone’s intellectual capacities - we’re aware of the organisations represented and their titles and academic accomplishments as Ms. Holloway so emphatically described when she introduced us. Nor will I question the importance of the initiative of Mr. Sinclaire’s foundation in granting the opportunity to underprivileged girls to access higher levels of education. I consider this absolutely extraordinary. Don’t get me wrong. But there’s something we need to question ourselves.

“From seven people sitting here, only two are female. Did you realise that? The organisation of this event didn’t consider this a problem. Neither of those are women of colour, as you can see. From the five men, only one of them is black and we’re in the auditorium of a university that is proud of its diversity. So where is it?”

The silence was broken by a few rumours that erupted in the crowd and one could almost hear Felicity’s teeth clenching. Briar tried to stifle a giggle unsuccessfully.

“Who is that?” Elizabeth whispered her question to Briar, her sparkling green eyes still on the woman delivering a passionate speech.

“Ah! That’s my friend Anabelle Parsons,” covering her mouth with her hand, Briar said in the lowest tone possible, “She’s one of the wittiest and most talented people you could ever meet. And a badass as you can see.”

“I am pleased to be invited to talk to you,” Annabelle spoke peeking at Felicity, “but I must say this: we need to listen, and we need to listen to those whose problems we claim to be concerned about. I can speak about the problems black women experience and how the pay gap is even worse on them, but I shouldn’t speak for them. We should listen them. Not only the black women, but the Asian, the Latin, the Syrian, the refugees mentioned by Mr. Sinclaire. We must understand how the conditions debated in Parliament these weeks will impact their lives; how Brexit will most certainly transform their lives. I shouldn’t speak for them. And neither should any of you. Our issues are not theirs… We should question ourselves about our lack of empathy and how we close these academic spaces and lose the opportunity to learn.”

For the next minutes, under Felicity Holloway’s glare, Annabelle Parsons delivered a powerful speech on gender inequality and incited the law students to question some aspects that one could consider natural and others most were oblivious about, as the _pink taxes_.

“Women still pay more for the same products. Up to 30% more, according to recent researches. And if we think about that and consider the pay gap, we can understand why this can have a significant impact on women’s finances along their lifetimes. Just think about a woman living with minimum wage. What if she has children? Or if she’s the sole provider? If she’s got girls, she’ll pay more for her daughter’s clothes, toys and pretty much everything else too. It’s bloody unfair, isn’t it? Now that you all know about it. What are you going to do with this information?”

“That was… truly… enlightening,” the blond woman addressed the crowd. Quickly, she wrapped up the lecture and informed there was no time for questions. A tight-lipped smile as the applauses resonated in the room.

“Whoa!” Elizabeth leaned back on the chair and smiled at Briar. “Your friend was amazing!”

“I know, right?”

“I’m on the verge of becoming a groupie and following her around…” she blurted it out before she could refrain herself and blushed when the other girl’s look met hers. A remembrance she was not Renata and they are not friends.

Rather than disapproval on her eyes, however, her expression revealed sheer amusement.

“Well, I don’t know if Ann would be okay with that…” she chuckled, “How about befriending her instead? I could introduce you, if you like.”

Elizabeth pondered for a moment at the suggestion, a smile and a nod of agreement.

Waiting by a corner, the two observed as Annabelle talked to a group of people.

“Her arguments are so strong. Is she a lawyer at the NGO1?”

“Oh, no. She studies Arts here. Her painting skills are a-ma-zing.”

“Really?”

“Mind-blowing amazing. Like hanging them on your wall now because they’re gonna be worth a fortune soon enough.”

“That good, huh? Or are you just a very proud friend?”

“Both.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms and looked back at Annabelle.

“Maybe I should see her work sometime.”

“Oh! Are you single?”

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth’s head whipped back.

“Are you dating anyone?” she asked slowly.

“No, I’m not,” she reluctantly answered the unforeseen question and considered the way the deep red lips were pulled, revealing a wide grin. “Why?”

“No reason… Sheer curiosity…” she said nonchalantly, playing with her long black hair and hid the smile behind it.

When Annabelle’s gaze found Briar, she waved and excused herself from the group. Tall and confident, her shiny brown oxford shoes tapping on the wooden floor as she moved towards her friend.

“Ann, you were so amazing up there!” Briar shrieked enveloping her in a hug.

“Thank you, darling!”

“But it’s probably the last time Felicity and Dana will ever invite you to speak.”

“They should’ve known better. Luckily, I have other places and crowds to speak to,” she giggled and glanced at Elizabeth a few steps behind stealing shy gazes at them. A look that conveyed more than entire sentences ever would was shared with Briar.

“Ah! Let me introduce you to someone…”

“Are you setting me up again, Briar?” Annabelle hissed in the other’s ear.

“No, of course not!” Briar shook her head and smiled mischievously. “But you need to meet new people.”

Briar linked her arm with Annabelle and brought her closer to the other girl.

“This is Elizabeth. She just transferred here. And this is the amazing and multi-talented Annabelle Parsons.”

They shook hands and remained silent for a moment. Elizabeth trying to remember the right words she collected during her inner monologue.

A little hesitant, her quiet words flew from her lips, “Your speech was truly impressive. I’ve seen so many tables filled with men speaking about women and our wants before… But I – I never understood why it made me uncomfortable. Until you said so. And all your considerations on inequality were so… pungent.”

“Glad I’ve enlightened you. Hope it did the same to the others, specially to Felicity. Though I’m fine with having men in our spaces and I wouldn’t forbid them to take part in the discussions, it’s past the time we speak for ourselves and define our own agenda. We should be heard. The debate should include all and any of us.”

“That’s a very good point,” Elizabeth said with a smile and Annabelle’s eyes lingered on her face.

“Ann, you got free time?”

“Why?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Reasons…” Briar giggled.

“Well, I took the day off at the gallery and was going to attend other lectures. I heard Professor Hughes will be on a table in the afternoon…”

Briar sighed dramatically and draw the other two’s attention.

“Could you, please, put on hold your fight against the patriarchy for a few hours so we take Elizabeth around the _campus_? What do you say? There’s an art exhibit on the second floor. You could continue to enlighten us with your knowledge,” Briar winked, “And we could have lunch afterwards.”

“Well, I could really eat something… Alright, I can dismiss Hughes’ misogynists arguments some other time.”

“You’re the best!” She linked her arm with Annabelle. “We’ll have so much fun!”

“That’s so nice of you, guys. I’m still learning my way around the buildings and I don’t seem to find anything in the schedule…”

“Can I see it?” Annabelle asked softly, and the paper was passed to her hand. “Where did you get this?”

“Yesterday, at orientation. Felicity gave it to me.”

“Felicity? That’s odd!” Annabelle frowned and extended it in Briar’s direction. “Take a look.”

“Oh, my God!” The nasal voice ringed and she turned around, “New girl, what did you do?”

“Me? I don’t know,” Elizabeth mumbled disconcerted.

“How did you cross Felicity already?”

“I did? I don’t know. We barely spoke,” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Heart beating accelerating.

“Did you go to school with her?”

“No!”

“Were you rival ballerinas and you got to be the black swan or something?”

She shook her head, curls bouncing from side to side.

“Then it’s got to be a man! It’s Mr. Sinclaire, innit? You’re fighting over him! I saw you two looking at each other! And she’s infatuated for him. Everyone knows –”

“What? I didn’t even know him before this morning…”

“Briar, calm down! You’re making Elizabeth nervous.” Annabelle pointed out to the woman’s pale face and widened eyes.

“I don’t know why she did it. Okay?” she stammered, “I thought it was just a prank…”

“Sorry.” Briar moved closer and patted Elizabeth’s arm softly. “I’m just worried. You have that Bambi look on your face and I just turned into my mother. It happens sometimes. Sorry.”

“That’s odd. Felicity takes her responsibilities too seriously to just prank a random new student…”

“You think I’m lying?” asked Elizabeth in a low voice before she halted.

“I don’t,” replied Annabelle, swivelling to face her again, “This is not random. You should be careful. She’s not someone to take risks for a joke.”

“Just apologise for whatever it is she thinks you’ve done…”

“I… I don’t know what she thinks I did,” she stuttered.

“Alright. Let’s forget this affair for a moment and enjoy the exhibit, shall we, ladies?” Annabelle proposed and observed as Elizabeth drew in deep breaths before following them inside.

*****

“Since you enjoy modern art, you’ll love the Tate. Well, even if you didn’t, the building itself deserves a visit,” Annabelle said while they walked side by side.

“I saw the pictures; it seems really interesting. My friend promised to take me there once he gets back in town. Maybe you could join us. I’d like to hear your thoughts on the collection.”

“Maybe I could. If your friend doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t think he would,” she replied with a smile and Briar mulled over her words, as she held the door open for them to walk outside the building.

The trio crossed the street. Conversation and laughter all the way until they walked inside a small cafeteria near the university.

Red brick walls and dim light creating an intimate atmosphere, while the dark and old-fashioned furniture gave the impression the place was frozen in time. A large round clock over the counter marking the hours. A quarter past one. Most of the tables were occupied, except for two on the back.

Animated chatter filled the air as much as the smell of fried fish and chips. Walking to the back, an older man with a tray greeted Briar effusively, and pointed at the table closer to the wall.

“I love it here. It’s good, cheap and it always feels cosy,” Briar said as she handed the menu to Elizabeth, “And the sandwiches are not overpriced as those fancy places down the street that she adores.”

“I like those because they actually have food I can eat.”

“They have plenty of food here, Ann.”

“Oh, look! Today they have one gluten free option, which means I can eat something other than the green salad,” Annabelle snorted, and Briar rolled her eyes.

“Since it’s your first time in London and your friend is out of town, we could show you around the city,” Annabelle suggested.

“That’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to take too much of your time… You’re probably occupied –”

“We’re offering…”

“We’ll give you the best London experience!” Briar paused and asked excitedly, “Oooh! Do you like going clubbing?”

“Not really…” said Elizabeth averting the brunette’s intense stare.

“What a shame. Annabelle never wants to go with me,” she sighed exaggeratedly.

“That’s ‘cause you always ditch me for some random lad and I have to endure insufferable music alone while avoiding pissed guys hitting on me.”

“It might’ve happened once or twice…” she admitted, casting a glance at Elizabeth.

“Don’t let her fool you, Elizabeth. It happens at least four out of five times we go out.”

“But I love to dance,” Briar whined.

Annabelle rolled her eyes and glanced at Elizabeth across from her and hiding a smirk behind the menu. After they placed their orders, the conversation resumed.

“Where have you been so far, Elizabeth?”

“My friend took me to Hyde Park and around, and we’ve visited the National Gallery too… And I went to a few museums and other touristic attractions by myself. As I told you before, he’s taking me to the Tate on the weekend and he suggested a day trip to the countryside. To visit Cotswold’s villages.”

“Hummm… That sounds romantic!” Briar said excitedly.

“No, not romantic at all. We’re looking for places to cycle together,” Elizabeth pointed out and her cheeks were coloured with a vivid red.

“Right,” Briar pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“We could take you around tomorrow morning, if you like. It’s supposed to be sunny,” Annabelle asked, “Are you free?”

“I’m planning on going to the lectures,” Elizabeth replied, a lasting blush on her cheeks.

“You know those are optional, right? And you’re not a fresher. You should take this time to get to know the city better.”

“Briar is actually right. Soon there will be too much reading and exams and mandatory activities taking all of your time…” Annabelle considered her hesitant expression, “And if you like, you could always tour with us in the morning and go to the lectures in the afternoon.”

Elizabeth acquiesced and they started making plans between bites of their meals, trying to combine touristic places and others where she could really experience the city.

“How did you two meet?” Elizabeth asked and sipped her juice.

“We’ve met last year when –”

“Let me tell her!” Briar squealed shifting in her seat to look at Elizabeth.

“No! You keep making things up!” 

“How dare you accuse me of that?” she tried to feign outrage but let out a fit of giggles. “My version is more accurate!”

Elizabeth observed them with amusement.

“Don’t mind her,” Annabelle resumed, “As I was saying, we’ve seen each other a few times on campus and one day after we had coffee, I asked her to pose. I had an art project and –”

“That’s her move!” Briar’s laughter resounded.

“It’s not a move!” Annabelle threw a crisp at Briar, which landed on her black hair.

“It so is!” Briar threw it back at Annabelle.

“I admit it. I may have used this as a line a few times.” 

Briar snorted. 

“But that wasn’t one of those occasions!”

Annabelle raised her finger at the brunette, who stuck her tongue out.

“She was devastated that I didn’t allow her to take liberties with me –”

“Excuse me! I simply complimented your hair.”

“You had those cartoon eyes, Ann… Admit it.”

“Anyways… She posed twice and talked incessantly, I barely finished my project and we’ve been friends ever since. Be aware it’s impossible to get rid of her.”

“You wound me, Ann!”

“That’s a funny story,” Elizabeth said with a grin.

“And not the strangest way I’ve met someone,” Briar mused.

Incoming messages caused Elizabeth’s mobile to vibrate. With a loud rumble it moved on its own over the table. Briar’s black eyes peeked at the screen.

“Someone is really eager to talk to you!” Briar nodded as the successive notifications popped on the screen.

“Sorry about that,” Elizabeth said and took the mobile in her hands.

Meanwhile, Briar mouthed inaudibly the masculine name on the screen to Annabelle. 

“My friend is bored at his conference. So, instead of working, he’s texting nonstop and complaining I haven’t answered him,” Elizabeth said while her eyes focused on the screen, and she chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Briar asked leaning closer to look at the device.

“He’s sending memes too.” 

The screen of the mobile turned for them to see it. 

“Is that Boris Johnson?”

“That’s funny and sadly accurate,” Annabelle stated, and Elizabeth covered her mouth and a soundless laughter.

“I better text him back. He’s threatening to send me audios from the conference.”

“Ah! We wouldn’t want that…” Briar teased, “I thought you were single.”

“I am. Hamid is a friend. Besides I won’t have time for a boyfriend with university and stuff.”

“You must always reserve time to date,” Briar objected, “It’s rule number one.“

“Briar, please, quit being so intrusive. We’ve just met, Elizabeth. Let’s not scary her away.”

“It’s alright,” the other said shyly, the smile on her lips not only prompted by Hamid’s Brexit memes.

*****

When the sun started to descend, and the shadows had moved around the café, Elizabeth realized, she’s spent most of the day with Briar and Annabelle. And it had been a very pleasant one. The shyness succumbing bit by bit around the two friends.

The pair’s wits and sense of humour amused her. They shared stories and phone numbers and she felt increasingly comfortable around them. However, not enough to tell them that she’s the daughter of the Earl of Edgewater.

For the first time in her life, she feared that somehow, outside the circles she has been introduced so far, being who she is could be a problem. Back at home in Rio, barely anyone knew about her father and her noble origins and it was easier.

_I can tell them some other time. Once we get to know each other better. It’s not like they’re telling me their most private secrets either… _

Walking to the underground, they confirmed the plans for the next day.

*****

“Mind the gap,” the metallic voice repeated the warning and Elizabeth stepped outside.

“I like her,” Briar told Annabelle when the tube’s door closed with a swoosh.

“Me too. But I’ve being really intrigued. Does she look familiar to you?”

“Not particularly…” Briar shook her head and the black hair swung from side to side.

“Since this morning I’m under the impression I’ve seen her somewhere before…”

“She’s never been to London. Where could you have met?”

“I don’t know…”

“Could she belong to one of your fancy people’s circles?” Briar teased.

“Perhaps. What’s her last name?”

Briar went quiet for a moment and tapped her chin with her index finger.

“I don’t think she actually told me…”

“That’s odd, isn’t it?”


	10. Chapter Nine - Lucky Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

The moon almost full up in the sky casting a soft glow through the small window. Inside, the bluish luminosity from the cell phone was the only other light in the darkened bedroom.

Sitting in the chair by the desk, Luke Harper took a big bite from his sandwich. His hunger refuses to adjust to London’s time and keeps him awake.

Chewing the crunch bread, his thumb absentmindedly gliding on the screen as he skimmed pictures on _Pictagram_. Back of the hand rubs against his mouth clearing it from small breadcrumbs.The stubble over his lips pricks his skin.

Since he arrived five days earlier, he’s been slowly acclimating to a whole new routine and his body misses the East Coast’s hours and properly exercising.

In his phone, side by side, two clocks. One for the UK and one for the US. 1h48 am here, 8h48 pm there. This makes easier to call his family back home at a reasonable hour, although is not enough to convince his brain to sleep; thus, the bed carefully made waits for him.

On the other side of the room, Frederick snored. The thunderous sound or the other man’s presence doesn’t particularly bother him, though. Living in a dorm and sharing the modest space with a complete stranger wasn’t foreign to him, nor was having an aloof roommate. At least, if this one doesn’t bring people over or bother his studies, everything we’ll be alright.

So far, welcome week is going smoothly. He already met a few of his colleagues, and a girl that wasn’t a colleague; actually, he’s still unsure why she attended the gathering for the Vet and Med students since she wasn’t one of them. However, Luke was not a man to pry nor to complain if a pretty girl would flirt with him and make him laugh.

The brunette with red lips was pretty and fun, but his eyes were already set on someone else. And hers, in the end, were just friendly. With a smile, they exchanged numbers and promises to have coffee or a beer sometime.

Another bite at the sandwich and glimpse at the screen, and his mind drifted back to Pretty Curly-Haired Girl from the café. The brief encounter still vivid in his mind and playing like frames from a movie.

—–

Morning light shining bright. The busy street and its three store buildings that couldn’t look more Londoners. A couple of red double decker buses on the background. Khalid’s voice on his headphones. Lazy steps on his way to the university and the sight of her striding in his direction. Long brown hair bathed in sunshine. Curls and dark floral skirt swaying as she walked.

Time stood still. Better yet, the whole world froze and faded, while she glided in slow motion. Eyes meeting for a fraction of a second, and his breathe hitched. To be more of a Hollywood cliché, only if it played _Pretty Woman _instead of _Young Dumb & Broke_.

Lowering her eyes, she went past him and into the coffee shop. His feet followed before his mind could object. Hand sliding inside the pocket, fingers grazing the Underground card and grabbing the coins. Enough pounds on his palm to buy one coffee.

Queuing behind her, closer than he would if this was anyone else, the delicate floral scent emanating from her long brown hair reached him and rivalled with the strong aroma of coffee that hung in the air. The black backpack hanging from one of her shoulders. A small Eiffel Tower keychain clinked as her hand reached for a blue covered book. He failed to catch a glimpse of the title. Head down, her fingers grazed the paper and turned another page.

“A double Americano, please,” Pretty Curly-Haired Girl spoke softly when it was her turn. After paying for the order, she stepped aside, and his eyes followed her – appreciating all of her – oblivious to the man with an expectant look.

“Sir?” the man behind the counter insisted, “May I take your order?”

The sound of his voice startled him. Clearing his throat, Luke asked, “One Americano. Please.” His voice sounded louder than intended, and Pretty Curly-Haired Girl casted a sideways glance at him.

Large hands rubbing against each other, he smiled at her.

_Chill, man. Just breathe._

His eyes stealing glances at her, studying her face and focusing on the luscious lips parted as she read.

“Is it any good?” Luke’s baritone voice caused the girl’s eyes to move up from the page and meet his.

“Excuse me?” she asked, closing the book.

“The book.” He pointed, peeking at the cover. _The Elegance of the Hedgehog_. “Is it good?”

“Americano,” cried the barista and they both looked at the same direction. “Double,” he added.

“It’s mine.” The book in a swift motion sliding inside the backpack and the paper cup passing from the barista’s hand to hers. “Thank you,” she said, and her cheeks rounded with a small tight-lipped smile.

Turning around, she faced him for the interval of a breath.

“It’s very good,” Pretty Curly-Haired Girl spoke softly.

Before he could ask what the book was about or anything else, she mouthed a quiet goodbye without meeting his eyes. She couldn’t hide the blush on her cheeks nor he the grin on his face.

“Miss, aren’t you taking any sweetener?” he asked, grabbing a few of the tiny paper tubes from the counter, and swivelling in her direction.

She looked back over her shoulder and just shook her head. Curls bouncing around her face.

“Americano,” the barista cried.

“Thanks, man.”

The cup plucked from the man’s hand. Not enough time to a politer thank you and his feet were already sprinting towards the pavement.

_God bless the creator of lids, _he thought as the hot liquid crashed like stormy sea waves inside the container_._

At the curb he had a last glimpse of her just as she disappeared inside one of the university buildings across the street. It was just his luck that she’s also a student at King’s College. Maybe their paths will cross again there; maybe he’ll just come often to the café.

—–

Body unwilling to cooperate, he couldn’t sleep. A game on his laptop until late hours. Messages exchanged with his brother. Eyes only closing at four in the morning. Birds chirping outside when he finally drifted to sleep.

The alarm on his cell phone buzzed repeatedly, at 7 a.m., however his eyes didn’t flutter open as the previous mornings.

The sun shining bright over the bed at the dorm room and his fingers rubbed against his eyes. There was no lump under the covers on the other bed as usual. His hand reached under the pillow and fumbled for a second before encircling the phone.

“9 am!?” he scrunched his eyes at the screen of his phone, “Oh, man!”

The lecture he wanted to attend was starting right at this moment.

_Maybe I’ll go sightseeing. Where can I go and not spend a penny?_

Headphones on, a special playlist of British rock bands as he walked along the Thames. Enjoying the breeze and the view, he leaned against the bridge. The Big Ben and the Parliament right behind his smiling face. A few selfies for _Pictagram_. His mom loves seeing those, and the girls too.

Crossing the bridge, the growl on his stomach and the small pointer in the Big Ben indicating it was time to stop to grab a bite to eat. Black sneakers leading him fast through the crowd to start his journey back to the dorm.

A few minutes of walk and, across the street, a glimpse of Pretty Curly-Haired Girl surrounded by two other girls who talked animatedly. Today was his lucky day and once more his feet followed her.

The giggles from the girls reached him as he tried to catch up with them. Feet and heart racing.

*****

After their morning tour, the trio of girls was heading to Briar’s favourite café near the university. Meanwhile Annabelle and Briar deliberating whether they should take Elizabeth this evening to a bar with a live band, as the first suggested, or to a karaoke night, as the second advocated enthusiastically. Though the subject of the conversation would much rather stay home and watch a movie with her father, as she said shyly at last.

The ring of the mobile and Elizabeth lingered by the door while her friends walked inside. Answering a call from her grandmother, she paced near the window. In a low voice, she replied several questions about her schedule. The woman making arrangements for a dinner with the Sinclaires causing her face to scowl. Absorbed by the conversation, she was unaware of the man standing a few metres away and observing her. 

Before her hand reached the door, the man held it open for her. Her eyes darted up to his face and were greeted by bright green eyes and warm brown cheeks popping with a smile, and she recognized him.

A quiet thank you left her mouth as she walked past him. His smile, even wider than before, reached his eyes and she barely missed it when she bowed her head to hide the blush on her cheeks.

_Is it me, or is just everyone really hot around here?_

Joining her friends at the table, she noticed the man picked a spot two tables away facing her. The fullness of his lips retreating to reveal a wide and white smile at her. Suddenly, it became undeniable that he was indeed flirting with her. The thought caused another rush of blood to her face, and she blamed it on the cool wind outside, when Briar asked.

As it happened in their presence in several occasions in the past four days, Elizabeth’s mobile pinged twice with incoming messages. Briar’s eyes peeked at the name she already expected to read, and a smile curled her lips.

“The friend is texting again,” she teased.

“Sorry about that,” Elizabeth said and turned the mobile, its screen facing the wooden table.

“You can text him back, we don’t mind,” Briar said and exchanged an amused look with Annabelle.

“Is he still bored in the conference?” asked Annabelle while Elizabeth typed.

“Most likely. But now he’s shopping for chocolates and asking too many questions about nuts and allergies… I think he’s buying chocolates to one of his ‘friends’.”

“Oh! Sorry about that…” Briar said and flashed a sympathetic smile.

“It’s alright,” Elizabeth shrugged, “He’s single.”

Another message from him and without reading she turned the screen down. Another topic of conversation was soon introduced to take her mind of the matter and Annabelle and Briar discussed with enthusiasm.

“But don’t you think it can be a choice? I like heels. And you wear makeup too.”

“Would you go out on the street without makeup, Briar?”

“Oh, God, no!”

“See!” Annabelle flashed a sly smile.

“But that’s because I look prettier, Ann. People deserve to see the very best of me!”

Between thoughts about Hamid and the Guy from the café, Elizabeth only nodded, simulating interest on what they were chatting about. Meanwhile, from time to time, the guy’s piercing green eyes would find her while she pretended not to see it.

Barely listening to the other two, she allowed green eyes to meet green eyes for a lingering moment. It was the first time she did that and a shy smile was offered to the man.

A ping from her mobile and her gaze retreated immediately to her own table and the corners of her lips uncurled, the smile fading at once.

_Ugh! Why does this feel so wrong? _

“What do you say, Liz? We need you to settle this.” Briar stared at her when she got no answer. “Lizzy, did you hear a word I’ve said?”

“Sorry?”

“Why are you so distracted?” Briar’s eyes moved from Elizabeth’s blushing face to the spot behind her where the other girl’s eyes have been moments before.

“Oh! Nice!” The brunette gave her an approving look before her head whipped back. “Wait! I know him!” She waved at the man, who returned the gesture.

“That’s Luke!” she said leaning over the table, “He’s an American exchange student. Vet. He goes to King’s too and –”

“Where did you meet a Vet student?” Annabelle’s question interrupted her.

“At the Vet’s welcome party.”

“You went to a Vet’s party? Who do you even know that goes there?” Annabelle’s voice raised with surprise.

“For instance, I know Luke,” Briar answered unperturbed, “Anyways, he’s super nice and funny and into all kinds of sports. He runs in the park in the evenings. And, most importantly, single. Have you two met, Liz?”

“Not exactly… But I’ve seen him before.”

“It’s hard to miss him with those broad shoulders and strong arms and green eyes…” Briar mused and casted a glance over her own shoulder.

“Ooh! Someone has a crush!” Annabelle teased.

“I wish! But he’s not a loser…”

“Why does it sound like a bad thing?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s not. It’s just… I have a type,” Briar sighed, “Emotionally unavailable, dumb and broke. Apparently, he’s none of those things. Well, maybe just broke… I could introduce you, if you like.”

“I don’t know, Briar… I…” Elizabeth mumbled.

“Is it because of your friend?” Briar asked in a conspiratorial tone, her eyes fixed on Elizabeth’s face.

“No!” The word slipped in the form of a squeal and, unconvinced by the answer, both girls tilted their heads and stared at her.

“It’s not. Hamid and I, we’re just friends…” she added before a streak of ramblings not entirely about Luke escaped her tongue. “I… I’m not looking to date anyone, anyway. And… Even if he looks like that… and is super attractive. I can’t… He’s an exchange student, which means he’ll leave. And I don’t do that… I don’t casually date… And… I can’t date anyone that won’t stay here… Because I live here… You know… And I’m not going anywhere… So… It won’t work…”

“Breathe, sweetie,” Annabelle said softly.

She took a deep breath, and her face was partially covered by the hair as she lowered her face to take a bite at the sandwich.

“I was just suggesting you could have coffee together or something… But I can see your point,” Briar paused and peeked over her shoulder again. “But isn’t it sad he’s sitting there alone? He probably doesn’t know many people… We could just invite him over to chat…”

The three pairs of eyes darted to the table where he was sitting. Sipping on a cup of coffee, an amused grin and a wave of his hand when he caught the trio staring at him.

“I don’t mind, if you don’t,” Annabelle shrugged, and Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

Briar jumped to her feet and crossed the distance to his table in the blink of an eye. They talked for a moment before he followed her. A cup of coffee in his hand, backpack on his shoulder and the persistent wide grin on his lips, revealing his white teeth.

“Luke, I want to introduce you to Anabelle and Elizabeth. Girls, this is Luke Harper.”

Briar nasal voice ringed and Elizabeth felt her cheeks burning and she hoped they wouldn’t look as hot as they felt.

*****

Welcome Week went by quickly. Without much effort, Elizabeth avoided Felicity Holloway while hanging with Briar and Annabelle and following their advices. Once classes start on Monday, however, this won’t be an easy task, she knows. What she still doesn’t know is why the blonde apparently dislikes her, and the only person who could clarify the situation refuses to speak to her.

For the past days Theresa has been avoiding her even in her father’s house, and it just increased her worries. Edmund is not nearly as intrigued as Elizabeth. During the two occasions the subject was mentioned, he offered the same advice about Felicity and suggested that his stepsister ignores this matter.

At least, the weekend arrived and with it Hamid would be back in London.

*****

The movie was halfway through. In the large dimly lit room, Elizabeth had pulled her feet up in the sofa and rested her head against her father’s shoulder. The man still sitting straight and his eyes fixed on the screen. Hand absentmindedly grabbing the popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

It was a quarter past ten when the ping sound caused her to bolt upright on the sofa and flung herself towards the coffee table.

On her palm a selfie of Hamid’s smiling face at the airport and her lips curled.

“Good news, I assume.” Vincent said grinning.

“Hamid arrived at the airport.”

“Should I pause the movie, darling?”

“No need, dad. I’ll just reply him really quick…”

Despite her words, they exchanged messages throughout the film. Elizabeth would occasionally giggle, eyes locked on the small screen, oblivious to the light-saber duel or her father’s attentive and amused gaze over her.

Just a smirk and not a word on the subject left Vincent’s mouth while he rubbed his chin, lost in his own thoughts.


	11. Chapter Ten - Front Row

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* Words in Portuguese and Turkish are on the notes in the end.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Two sprays of perfume. Nude baton sliding on her lips. Fingers raking through her curls. A last look on the mirror and Elizabeth left the room. Hurried steps taking her out of the house.

Even though they texted every day while he was in Brussels, she missed Hamid much more than she should have – or would admit out loud –, and she was eager to see him again.

Crossing the street, each step getting her closer to the café near his flat and causing her heart to race.

The sight of the man in jeans and light blue sweater standing outside took her breath away.

If she was bold enough or just carefree like Renata, she’d just throw her arms around him and revel in his warm embrace, as she did that day in the Opera. However, that’s not how one’s supposed to act around a friend ordinarily. 

_It’s been just a week. It’s not like he was sent to war or something. And we’re just friends. _She reminds herself before her shoes touch the curb.

When his eyes recognized her, his lips pulled into an unabashed grin.

“Hi, Elizabeth!” he said in his cheerful and melodious tone. Her name in his tongue almost could make her melt.

“Hi, Hamid!”

For an instant, they stood awkwardly in the pavement, looking at each other and beaming.

_Should I hug him? Shake hands? _

Inching closer, right hand on her arm, he leaned. His cheek touched hers briefly for an air kiss. The girl didn’t flinch, on the contrary. His fresh perfume invaded her nostrils and she wished he wouldn’t step back.

“I’ve brought you something.”

“You did?” she asked surprised, finally noticing the red paper bag in his hand. “You brought me chocolate?”

“Yes. You like chocolate and the Belgium is supposed to be one of the best, so it seemed like an obvious choice.” He smirked.

“Thank you!” 

Fingers holding the straps of the bag, she peeked inside at the ornate square box of bonbons. 

“It’s very sweet of you, Hamid. But you needn’t get me anything,” she said softly, eyes on the bag.

“I know. But I wanted to.” He grinned and his little finger hooked with hers, a wordless invitation to go inside.

Sitting together in the back of the small café eating sandwiches, the conversation flowed naturally, changing from topic to topic just like when they text each other.

“This is too good!” she said, “You were absolutely right! The smoked salmon is delicious!”

“I’ve told you, I’m a man of impeccable taste,” he winked playfully at her and she smiled.

“When it comes to food at least, I can’t disagree,” she teased, “I wonder if Annabelle knows this place. They’ve got some gluten free options she might like…”

“You’re making friends quick,” he stated smiling and sipped his orange juice, “It’s good!”

“Actually, Briar befriended me and introduced me to Ann, so I can’t take any credits for that…” she pointed out, “They’re great and apparently like me even if I’m shy and awkward…”

“What’s not to like about you?” he said meeting her gaze with such intensity that her eyes lowered to her hands. A rush of blood flowed to her cheeks and his smile widened at the sight of the lovely pink hue he caused.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she averted meeting his gaze while thinking of something appropriated to say. 

Hamid took an olive to his mouth and and pushed the small bowl in her direction, drawing her eyes to it. Her fingers took one to her mouth and a shy smile curled her lips.

“I envy you. You’ve had too much fun while I was surrounded by boring bureaucrats…” he pouted and she tilted her head and looked at him. 

“I’ve sent you cat memes.”

“It eased the boredom, but not the loneliness…”

“No friends in Brussels?” she asked nonchalantly and drank her juice.

“No. And I don’t have as many friends as you think I do…” 

He took another bite at his sandwich before speaking again.

“Is there any place at London you haven’t visited yet with your friends?”

“Plenty.”

“Good. I was afraid I was no longer your favourite tour guide.”

“That’s unlikely,” she said softly and felt her heart pound faster at her bold words, “Are we going to the Tate after we finish here, Hamid?”

“We can go wherever your heart desires.”

“Would you mind if Annabelle joined us if she’s free?”

“I don’t mind,” he answered, a warm and persistent smile curling his lips.

_How I missed those dimples!_ she thought.

“Ann knows a lot about the collection – Did I tell you she’s an Art student?” He nodded. “I think you’ll like her. She’s smart and so funny… And so is Briar. But she’s working today…”

“Smart and funny is an excellent combination,” he said and chewed on his sandwich, his eyes never leaving her face. 

“Yesterday I had lunch with them, and my jaw and belly ached due to all the laughter.” She shook her head slowly with an amused grin. “And Briar and Luke are just hilarious together… So many jokes…”

Hamid put the half-eaten sandwich back on his plate, and the napkin cleared breadcrumbs of the corners of his lips and the smile off his face.

“Who is Luke?” he asked casually while she drank the juice.

Elizabeth swallowed the liquid and her eyes lowered to her own sandwich at the plate.

“Haven’t I mentioned Luke?” Her fingers picked at the crust of the bread and she took a small piece to her mouth.

“No. Just Annabelle and Briar,” the man answered and his attentive ocean blue eyes were trained on her face.

“He’s an exchange student Briar knows… He’s really funny.”

“I see you found yourself a funny group…”

“I guess… And now I’m not alone in my requests for translation when Briar speaks some obscure British expression,” she smiled at Hamid and he returned the gesture, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time.

“Briar took a selfie of us.” She said and her hand went to her mobile. A moment later it rested in his palm.

“Whoa!”

“What?”

“They look like they were really enjoying themselves. While you… How can I say it? It seems you were forced to be there… Possibly literally.”

“Stop it! It’s not that bad!” she squealed and tried to take the mobile from his hand.

“Why is this one holding you like that?”

“Briar is rather affectionate.” He raised his eyebrows and she mumbled. “And I might have intentionally positioned myself out of frame a couple of times…”

“Are they forcing you to have fun too?” He narrowed his eyes. “Should I warn your father?”

“Shut up!“ she leaned forward trying to reach the device and he pulled it back. “Give me back, Hamid!” 

“I’ll give it back, if you explain why you took such an interest in that cup. Was that cup the Holy Grail?”

“Ugh! I’ve told you I hate being photographed…” she slumped on the chair and covered her face, “I never know where to look or how to smile properly… That’s right there is me looking… casual.”

“That’s casual?” he snickered.

A moan from behind her hands and he pursed his lips holding in a fit of laughter.

Her hands were gently touched by his and Elizabeth removed one from her face to peek at him.

“You’ve shared your reasons to be self aware of photos… It doesn’t need to be so hard. Just look at the camera and think of something that makes you want to smile. Like the Civil Procedural Code, for instance.”

“I simply said it was fascinating,” she snorted.

“Maybe a joke?” He tilted his head looking at her now uncovered face. “Or this sandwich?”

“That’s a good one! The memory of this sandwich will bring me joy.”

She smiled and he clicked twice before she acknowledged.

“Or you can think of me…” he said in a lower tone and her smile faded. Her eyes met his and another click. “I always look at the camera, smile and show my good side…”

Hamid turned his face slightly to the left, “This is my good side, by the way.”

_As if you have a bad one… _

Grinning, he took a selfie and contemplated the pictures on the phone, before returning it to its owner.

“Take a look.”

“It looks okay, I guess…”

“You look beautiful! Specially in the last one.”

Anytime he’d say she was beautiful, a warmth grew inside her and her heart fluttered. Simultaneously, however, the voice in her head would chastise her for being so naive.

_He tells that to everyone! Don’t forget it. As frequent as hello._

Keeping her eyes at the screen, her gaze lingered in his selfie.

The cafe was busy and noisy with indistinct chatter from patrons and the clink of silverware. Meanwhile the table on the back became quiet. The couple stealing glances at one another, in between bites and sips.

“How come you still haven’t said a word about college?” his question broke the silence and drew her eyes to him, “I thought that would be all you could talk about.”

“Are you suggesting I’m boring and predictable?”

“Never. Just assumed you’d be more excited with classes on Monday. You’re kind of a nerd, you know.”

“Hey!” she squealed, narrowing her eyes at him and he laughed. “I’m thrilled.” An insincere reply, while thoughts about Felicity Holloway still occupied her mind.

“Your face says otherwise.”

“But I am,” Elizabeth insisted and plastered an exaggerated smile on her lips, “Better?”

“No, that’s plain scary. Don’t ever do that again,” he snickered.

“And how about you, Hamid? How’s the dissertation going?”

Sighing exaggeratedly, his fingers picked at breadcrumbs on his plate.

“It’s going at a glacier slow pace, actually… But I’ve finished my article.”

“That’s great news!”

“And I’m working on that lecture I’ve mentioned… The one at King’s.”

“Maybe we should skip the tour so you can study…”

“I can study afterwards.”

“You have things to do and I’m distracting you.”

Leaning forward, he clasped his hands and intertwined his fingers. When his eyes met hers, he spoke softly, “There’s only one acceptable reason to cancel our outing: if you secretly hate modern art and this was just a pretence to spend time with me. If that’s the case, we can cancel and do anything else.”

“I like art, including modern.”

“A man can dream…”

“I could help you… I can type really fast.”

“Do you want to study on a weekend when you absolutely don’t have to?”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

“Ah! The most beautiful queen of the nerds.”

She looked away, and hoped her cheeks weren’t as reddened as she imagined.

“Maybe you could play my beta audience and tell me if those IR undergrads will be bored to death with my speech…”

“Okay. But to be honest, I have the vaguest idea of what you’re studying…”

“Just like them… That’s why you’re perfect.”

“Okay. Then dazzle me with your knowledge, Mr. Osmanoğlu.”

For the next ten minutes, hands dancing in the rhythm of his words, Hamid spoke about the subject of his dissertation and the topic he’s chosen for the lecture.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth granted her undivided attention. Chin propped over her hands, her eyes were unable to waver from his face. The girl’s smiling the whole time.

“So, what do you think? Too boring?”

“Wow! You said you’re not interested in an academic career, but dude that was impressive! I just felt like I was in the front row of one of your classes, Professor Osmanoğlu.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Aman tanrım¹! Have I just turned into a boring old man?” He grabbed her mobile and mockingly looked at his reflection in the screen.

“Not at all.” She smiled coyly, averting his eyes. “You are a young and cool professor in this scenario. With awesome stories…”

“I like that option better.”

“With all your knowledge I can imagine the kind of references you would make and blow your students minds.” She cleared her throat and adjusted imaginary glasses on her face. “Work has –”

“Do I wear glasses in this scenario?” asked Hamid.

“Obviously.”

“But I have perfect eyesight,” he said resting his cheek in his left hand.

“Then you’ll need a fake one to look smarter.”

“Don’t I look smart enough?”

“No.” She smirked.

“Rude!”

Once more, she cleared her throat and lowered her tone to mimic Hamid’s baritone voice, “Work has culturally shaped our society. The day Gregor Samsa doesn’t go to work is the day he becomes a huge insect. A pariah. _Metamorphoses_ can be understood as a metaphor about the consequences faced by those who don’t conform to this capitalist order…”

When she removed the imaginary glasses and put them in an equally made-up pocket, the man was smiling.

“The impression was good.”

“Thank you.”

“But that’s oddly specific. Both the glasses and Kafka’s reference. And absolutely unrelated to anything I’ve said…”

“There’s no way I can remotely repeat what you’ve explained.” She failed to stifle a giggle. “If anyone ever asks me about your research, I’d have to tell them it’s about trade. And Turkey. The country, not the bird. And might or might not involve _commodities_.”

“That’s an awful simplification!” he scoffed. “I’m now doubting my teaching skills… Or maybe I’ll assume you were thinking about someone else while I was talking.”

“What? No! I… I was paying attention…”

“Did you have a crush in one of your professors, Elizabeth?” He raised one eyebrow at her. A smirk playing on his lips.

“No! I… I never had a crush on any of my professors!” Her hands encircled the glass and she stared at the rest of juice on the bottom.

“You really have a thing for intellectuals, huh?”

“I’m actively ignoring you, mate.” 

Her words were followed by his heartfelt laughter and his hands grazed hers holding the glass. Just a brief and gentle feather-like touch, enough to make her skin tingle.****

“Since you kindly offered, I do need help organizing my notes…”

“Oh! I love organization!”

“Why am I not surprised?” he chuckled. “Maybe, once you finish, we could skip the tour and go straight to my flat.”

“Huh…”

_Terrible idea! I can’t be trusted alone with him in a private place… Don’t look at his eyes. We’re friends. Friends! Remember that. Stop thinking about kissing him. Worst idea ever! Just say no!_

“Are you thinking about him again?” he teased.

“Sorry?” she gaped.

“Are you coming over?” he said slowly and amused.

“I have a better idea… Why don’t you come over to the house? You could, you know, satisfy your curiosity about the library… it’s not as grand as the one in Edgewater but still… It’s, you know, filled with books. Many of them. And you like books…”

“I do like books.” He smiled at all the mumbling and blush on her face as her gaze was fixed somewhere behind him.

“And father… He asked me to invite you sometime, anyways. He likes your stories… And he’ll be home. There’s some match. Chelsea will be playing. Or was it some other team? Maybe Arsenal? I’m almost certain it was football.”

“I like telling my stories. And I like your father. English teams… not so much. I’m a Fenerbahçe fan myself.” He winked. “But I suppose we could study instead…”

“Study is good.”

_Study is good? Oh, my God! I’m such a dork! When will I stop sounding like an idiot around him?  
_

*****

Walking into the large room, Elizabeth went straight to the front, where a few desks were still empty. On her way, a polite good morning to the classmates present and the book on her hand was placed atop a desk on the front row. 

Smoothing her skirt, she was about to sit down when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Liz, what are you doing?”

Her head darted back, and she spotted Briar moving closer.

“Sitting?”

“You can’t sit there.” The girl picked up her belongings and walked away. “Come with me.”

“Why not?” She grabbed her backpack and followed.

“Didn’t you hear a word I’ve said? That’s where Felicity Holloway sits. Plus her squad.”

“Weren’t you joking?”

“Why would I joke about that?” Her hair whipped and she faced her friend. “Let’s not get on her bad side this early in the morning, shall we?”

Elizabeth followed her with an annoyed expression.

“Do you really think I’d get on her bad side over a spot?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. “You’ve already crossed her, and you barely spoke to her. Are you really going to push your lucky?”

“So, this is just like an American high school movie?” she huffed and crossed her arms.

“Pretty much. If you’ve watched _Mean Girls_ you get the picture. Come on, Liz. You’ll thank me later.”

Briar placed Elizabeth’s things over a desk at the back and they sat down.

“I like sitting there…” Elizabeth mumbled. “I’m a front row student.”

“Dork,” Briar scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes. “It’s better not sitting on the front rows in Professor Richards’ classes anyways…”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see for yourself.” Briar feigned a shiver.

*****

“Good morning!”

Elizabeth heard the thunderous voice before seeing who was speaking: swaggering came a tall man in his early fifties, grey hair and a condescending smile. 

She recognized him from the book cover he recommended for his own course.

“No introductions needed since my fame precedes me. I am positive, since you were accepted here, that you are not stupid and have read your schedules to know in which class you are.”

Large strides to the desk, he dropped the briefcase with a loud thump and his eyes roamed around the room.

“I advise the few familiar faces taking this course for the second time like Ms. Ward, that you should drop it right away if you cannot commit with my methodology…”

“Which methodology?” Elizabeth whispered to Briar as he continued talking.

The girl’s index finger touched her red lips in a sign of silence and panic flashed in her eyes when the Professor’s stare was drawn to their direction.

Resuming, the man meandered for twenty-minutes straight. His shoes clicking as he paced. The sole moments of silence when he stopped to catch his breath. Adoration for his own voice as he boasted about his knowledge and experience.

Briar exaggeratedly rolled her eyes and Elizabeth had a bad feeling about this course, even without anticipating what was about to come. When the class was about to be dismissed, Professor Richards’ loud voice called her name and she gasped.

Whispers erupted as students looked around, searching for the person being addressed.

“Is there a Miss Elizabeth Foredale in here?” he asked again.

Elizabeth raised her hand shyly.

“Are you Vincent’s daughter?”

She nodded and he took a hard look at her. Hands behind his back he smirked.

“Are you absolutely certain you want to study under me?” asked the Professor in a suggestive tone and supressing a gag she simply nodded.

“This will be mostly interesting.”

Turning around, he dismissed the class and many students casted glances at her. 

Pretending not to notice, Elizabeth concentrated all her attention in the things she was putting inside the backpack.

“What was that all about?” Briar finally let the question slip from her tongue.

“I have no idea…”

“How does he know your father?”

Elizabeth shrugged.

“Were they colleagues? Or friends? Did they work together? Were they rivals? They were, right? That would explain a lot actually –”

“I’m sorry, Briar. I wish I knew it too. I’ll have to ask my father later.”

“Alright. I’m dying of curiosity!”

Elizabeth flashed a tight-lip smile and zipped her backpack.

“Do you wanna grab a bite to eat later, Liz?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I’m going to European Law now.”

“Alright! I’ll meet you near the lift when classes are over.”

*****

Leaning against the wall, Elizabeth answered messages from Renata satiating her friend’s curiosity about her first day, while waiting for Briar.

“Miss Foredale.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of the feminine voice. She stopped typing midsentence a message about the obnoxious Professor Richards.

“Miss Holloway,” she said straightening herself and fixing an insincere polite smile, “How do you do?”

Ignoring good manners, Felicity narrowed her blue eyes and biting words were freed from her mouth at once.

“Professor Richards is not the only one who knows exactly who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as Felicity stepped on her personal space with a humourless laughter. Trying to keep her distance, her backpack touched the wall.

“Are you going to play the naive with me? Really?”

Unable to find an appropriate answer to this question, she only stared at the blonde.

“You ought to know that I am not accepting this situation. And I will ensure nobody else will either.”

“Which situation? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elizabeth said, and her eyes met the stare of Theresa Sutton and another girl, whom she assumed was Donna Bowman, standing behind the blonde.

“You know exactly what I meant!”

“I don’t. And this conversation is making me uncomfortable. If you excuse me…”

Pulling her backpack to the front of her body, Elizabeth tried to walk around the other girl, but twice she blocked her way.

“Just because you’re the daughter of the almighty Earl of Edgewater, it doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and take our rightful places.”

“I’m not here to take anyone’s place…”

“Professor Richards told me all about you… I know how this goes.”

“I didn’t…” she swallowed the lump on her throat, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I deserve to be here… Like everyone else. Why would you –”

“Do you truly believe I’m that stupid?” she scoffed, “And don’t even think about using lessons from your mother’s book.”

“O que você disse?²” Elizabeth’s eyes darted up to the other’s face and she felt the blood boil inside her veins.

“Back off!” Briar said in a harsh tone, brushing past Theresa and Donna. “What’s the matter with you, Felicity?” she uttered standing close to the blonde.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Felicity replied in an exasperated tone.

“I won’t let you bully her!” Briar raised her chin and stared Felicity down. “Let’s go, Liz!”

Elizabeth walked past the blonde. Instead of the lift, her strides led her straight to the toilet. Even with the thumping of her heart and the clackety-clack of her shoes, she still heard the other two’s voices raising.

“You shouldn’t take her side!” Felicity barked.

“You don’t even know her!”

“I won’t let a snake bite me either to know her nature.”

“You would definitely know about snakes…” Briar retorted and walked away.

The clicking of the brunette’s heels getting louder. Elizabeth closed the toilet’s door behind her and slipped inside a stall.

_What on earth is going on? What’s the matter with this girl? And mentioning my mother I should’ve – _

The squeak of the door followed by Briar’s nasal voice interrupted her monologue.

“Liz, are you there?”

A loud inhale was the only answer she got. Elizabeth hoped she wouldn’t follow her there.

“Please, come outside.”

“I don’t want to… I’m angry… And when I’m angry…” she sobbed and blew her nose, “I cry… I can’t help it. I need a moment.”

“Okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”

The brunette’s fingers raked her long hair in front of the mirror, and she leaned against the sink. Mobile in hand, her eyes were drawn to the results of her search on the screen.

*****

After a few minutes, the stall became silent and through a crack on the door, Elizabeth saw Briar typing on her mobile.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked her without raising her eyes from the screen.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really…”

“Do you like sweets, Liz?”

“Why?” Elizabeth wiped her moist cheeks with her hands.

“If you do, I might know just the place to cheer you up.” Briar said and gave her a few paper tissues, when she stepped closer to the sink.

“I love sweets…” she sighed. “I could eat a pot of brigadeiro³ right now.”

“Alright. I have something better than that. Put on some lipstick. We’ll take the tube.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Aman tanrım – Turkish interjection similar in sense to Oh, my God!  
2\. O que você disse? – What did you say?  
3\. Brigadeiro – a Brazilian sweet made of chocolate.


	12. Chapter Eleven - The Sweetest Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Honesty is a virtue Elizabeth greatly admires. Given the present circumstances, however, Briar could consider her a hypocrite if she said so.

How to explain to someone you recently met that you make stupid decisions when you’re so fearful of rejection, as she is? How to talk about the necessity of hiding unpleasant truths, even though you suck at it as Renata constantly reminds her?

_Was it so bad?_, she ponders. _I__ didn’t lie to Briar. I just omitted a small detail about myself_. _People don’t just share every detail of themselves after they met someone, right? _

Briar glanced over her shoulder to make sure Elizabeth was still trailing behind and resumed their talkless walk. The silence louder than the buzz of the city. The entrance to the underground station was just ahead, when she caught up to Briar. Side by side, they marched forward. People with hurried steps passing by in both directions.

Stealing sideways glances at Briar’s serious face, Elizabeth wondered how much she’s heard and if she believed Felicity’s words. She can’t help it but ask herself if this will taint their friendship permanently and create an unsurmountable obstacle. Biting on her nail, her stomach churns at this hypothesis.

“Where we’re going?” Elizabeth asked pressing her card to the reader.

“Hounslow,” Briar says and indicates which line they’ll take, and the familiar name rings a bell. Elizabeth knows they’ll have a long way ahead of them. Nowhere to run from uncomfortable question.

Backpack on her lap, arms encircling it tight, Elizabeth sat next to Briar. Both girls stealing glances at each other. Unable to find words that suited the situation, Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed a few times. 

The tube’s door opened with a swoosh and new passengers walked inside and her eyes followed them.

“So you’re a lady?” Briar asked in a conspiratorial tone.

“Yeah,” her response came out low and shy, her eyes fixed on the trinket hanging from the backpack’s zipper.

“I never met nobility. Should I start calling you my lady and curtsying?”

Elizabeth’s head jerked back up and she faced the other. “No, of course not! Nothing changes!” 

“But you live in a mansion and have a country manor and a cute butler…” Elizabeth casted a puzzled look. “I googled you.”

“Okay… That’s true, my family owns all of that… Well, except the butler. We don’t own Arthur.”

The corners of the brunette’s lips twitched with the banter, but she kept an otherwise straight face.

“When were you planning to tell me about your family, Liz?”

“I… Someday… Maybe never?” she muttered.

“Wow!” Her mouth opened in shock and her black hair swayed sideways when she shook her head. “I thought we were becoming friends…” Her voice filled with hurt.

“We are. But it’s complicated…”

“Enlighten me,” Briar retorted.

“I thought about telling you and Ann about it… But I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“I already knew you had money, most people at King’s do. Your clothes look expensive, you never once do the maths before accepting invitations to lunch…”

“I wasn’t concerned about that…” She looked around and took a deep breath, before speaking again. “It makes me uncomfortable being in the spotlight and having to deal with all the rumours surrounding my father… Maybe if no one knew who I was…”

Briar looked at her and considered her words for a moment.

“I definitely wasn’t expecting Felicity to blabber about it,” Elizabeth added.

“Oh, sweetie…” Briar shook her head slowly, and her eyes met Elizabeth’s. “Your father is a well-known politician and so is Felicity’s father –”

“Oh! I didn’t know that!” she interrupted, her eyes widened with the revelation, and then muttered, “I must start paying attention to what my grandmother says about these stuff…”

“I think you really should. You can only keep this kind of secret if you’re in one of those movies where you change your face and identity… In real life, someone eventually would talk. You should know that… People follow nobility’s gossip like soap-operas… So, chances of someone spilling the beans were high, Liz! If it wasn’t her, it would be someone else.”

Elizabeth’s shoulder sagged, and she bowed her head averting Briar’s eyes.

“No wonder Ann kept saying you looked familiar. She knows your brothers, by the way.”

“She does?”

“I texted her. She was friends with Harry,” Briar said, touching the other’s arm. “Sorry about him. Ann said he was a really sweet guy.”

“Thank you, Briar,” she said with a small smile, and explained, “I’m truly sorry about this. It’s just… I’m still getting used to the things I used to be spared… Harry was the heir, he got the attention, not me.” She drew in a deep inhale, and looked outside the Tube’s window. “I didn’t have to act like a lady when I wasn’t here… Growing up, I’d do this for a month or so a year. And it could be fun sometimes. Like role-playing. There weren’t paparazzi following me back to Rio… I have a boring life. I just avoided posting any indiscretion on social media, like my grandmother kept telling me, and it was enough. Now I oughtta mind my manners and manage my image and be careful who I’m with if I’m caught on camera… I’ve been here for two weeks and I’m already overwhelmed… I’m scared I’ll blew it… I just wanted uni to be a place where I could be myself…”

Briar’s face softened, a sympathetic smile curled her lips, “I don’t know if it helps, but Prince Harry did a lot of stupidity in his youth and things turned out good for him…”

Elizabeth returned the smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “I want you to know that it wasn’t personal not telling…”

“We’re okay, I guess. I can understand you now. But this friendship thing can’t work if I have to wait Felicity Holloway to tell me things.” She nudged her and they giggled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Mind answering a question, Liz?” When she acquiesced with a nod, Briar asked, “Is it true, that your father used his influence to get you into uni?”

“Of course not! I was transferred,” she huffed angrily thinking about Felicity’s words. “Besides, when I finished high school, I applied to King’s and was accepted; at Oxford too… It isn’t that weird they’d accept me now.”

“Then why it took you so long to come here to study?” Briar’s dark brown eyes fixed on Elizabeth with curiosity.

Taking a deep breath, she chewed on a cuticle, and looked down. When she spoke again, her voice was small and hesitant, “I didn’t come before, because my mother was really sick… I couldn’t leave her. So, I applied to colleges in Rio and stayed.”

“Sorry about that. Is she better now?” Elizabeth’s lips were pulled inside her mouth and she shook her head. “Oh, Lizzy!” Briar’s arm encircled Elizabeth’s shoulder, and their heads touched. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and took a deep breath.

They remained silent for a long while and Elizabeth texted her grandmother. Meanwhile Briar’s gaze fell upon a little girl with braided hair sitting in a woman’s lap humming a tune, and she smiled.

“Briar,” Elizabeth called her after putting the mobile down, “you stood up for me even though this story could be true… Why?”

“Well… To be perfectly honest, when I saw Felicity cornering you, I didn’t know what was going on… My instincts just kicked in. But either way, I hate bullies and I like you, so…” she shrugged.

“Aren’t you afraid of Felicity?”

“Absolutely not!” she laughed, “I can bite harder than that Afghan hound if I have to.”

“Afghan hound?”

“Don’t you think she looks like one? That hair of hers and the thin legs?” she chuckled, and Elizabeth failed to stifle a giggle.

“You’re terrible.”

“I’m awesome. And you’re lucky I befriended you.”

“True.”

*****

Crossing the checkered floor on their way out of the underground station, they were welcomed by a very different neighbourhood than the ones Elizabeth visited so far. The street much less packed with people. No tourists at sight. Turning on a secondary street, her eyes scanned the two-store buildings housing local businesses.

“This’s my mother’s bakery,” Briar said as she crossed the threshold.

Inside they were greeted by the characteristic aroma of cake being baked and a smiling bronze skinned woman. Briar walked straight to her. Both shared the same dark hair and bright brown eyes.

“Hello, Briar!” The woman offered a cheek for Briar to kiss, while her hands worked on the decoration of a cake. Cherries carefully placed side by side forming a geometric pattern. Briar’s lips touched her face followed by the characteristic smacking sound, leaving a lipstick stain, that she brushed away with her thumb.

“This looks good, mum!”

“Don’t even think about touching it,” the woman warned raising the index finger.

“I’d never…” Briar feigned outrage and the woman’s eyebrows raised. Elizabeth wondered if her friend realizes she mirrors the same expression sometimes.

Giggling, Briar motioned with her hand for Elizabeth to step closer.

“Mum, I want you to meet my friend Elizabeth.”

They greeted each other, and Mrs. Daly’s dark eyes studied the young woman’s demeanour, before her gaze shifted back to her daughter.

“Shouldn’t you be at work, Briar?”

“Not until tomorrow.”

“How was the first day at school?”

“Fine.” She plucked at one cherry and took it to her mouth, before adding dramatically, “But the stress and pressure of the beginning of the year is almost unbearable…”

“Unbearable?” she scoffed, “Is it so, Elizabeth?” The curls around her face bounced when she nodded in agreement. “I can imagine what brought you and your friend here…”

“And you’re absolutely correct. As usual, mum,” Briar said with a honeyed voice, hugging her, “Can we, please, have some of your walnut pie?”

“Of course. Take as many pieces as you want from that platter.”

“Thank you!” Briar kissed her cheek, and Elizabeth watched them with amusement.

“I’ll get a new one from the kitchen,” she said turning on her heels, disappearing behind a door. Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Briar washed her hands behind the counter and the latter aptly cut slices of the pie.

“This is perfection,” she said licking the filling that got on her fingers and offered a plate to Elizabeth.

“Your mother seems nice,” Elizabeth said following Briar to the table by the window.

“She is the best! Raised me practically on her own.”

“Oh, my God!” Elizabeth moaned after taking a bite of the pie.

“Amazing, right? When you finish it you won’t even remember Felicity!”

“Felicity who?”

They snickered and, while eating, Briar told stories about her family and the neighbourhood.

“My mum came from the North. But I’ve lived here my whole life. Our house is just two streets down. In that direction.” She pointed with the fork and then waved to an elderly woman who stopped by the window.

“You have quite a busy life,” Elizabeth said resting her chin on her hand.

“I guess…” Briar shrugged.

“You do! Two jobs, uni, friends… And you still find the time to go out and have fun. I should learn about time-management from you.”

“I’m not top of the class as you-know-who… And I’m probably not as focused on studying as you are. But I get most things done. I have no other choice.” She propped her chin on her knuckles and her gaze followed a man walking a dog. “Though I can’t complain. The job at the Foundation is an absolute delight. Three days a week surrounded by cute guys in suit! It’s heavenly!” She winked at Elizabeth and they chuckled.

“That’s why you’ve chosen Law?” Elizabeth licked the filling from her fork with a smirk. “Cute guys in suit?”

“Of course! Is there any other acceptable reason?” She let out a heartfelt laughter and offered Elizabeth another piece of pie, which she politely refused. 

Briar went to the counter to get another piece for herself and walked back to the table. Sitting down, her gaze followed her mother who talked to a costumer before resuming the work on the cake. 

“I’m the first one of my family to go to college,” said Briar in an unexpected low and serious tone. “She sacrificed a lot for me… so it’s important I do it right, you know?”

“I get that.” Elizabeth smiled warmly. “If you ever need help studying…”

“Thank you for the offer, I’ll hold you to that, Liz.”

“What about your father?” Elizabeth asked.

“My father… well… He got a job in Scotland when I was about five and since then he just stops by twice a year.”

“Sorry. I know how it’s not having a father around…”

“Don’t be. I don’t know about you and your father personally, but I really don’t mind if mine isn’t here. At least not since I was old enough to understand things…” She took the fork to her mouth and moaned in delight. “What about your parents? What was the deal?”

“You said you read the tabloids…”

“I sure did. But you said those stories weren’t true.”

“Where do I even begin?” Elizabeth exhaled loudly. 

“From the start, maybe?”

Fingers fidgeting with a napkin, Elizabeth pondered and opted for frankness.

“Mamãe was an opera singer and my father fell in love with her at first sight. Or at first song, as he says,” Elizabeth smirked, thinking about how many times she heard him saying that. “I’ve just learned that she refused to go out with him after they met because he was engaged to my stepmother…”

“Oh, I love star-crossed lovers’ stories!” Briar’s chin propped in her hands and she leaned closer, eyes unwavering from Elizabeth’s face.

“Yeah, they were definitely star-crossed lovers,” Elizabeth’s lips pulled inside her mouth for a moment and she swallowed, “My father broke up his engagement to be with mamãe and they were truly happy for a while.”

“Why didn’t it last?”

“My grandfather didn’t accept his decision and did unimaginable things to separate them…”

“Why?” Briar gasped.

“He couldn’t accept my father in a relationship with someone who didn’t belong to his circles, and a black woman nonetheless…” she grimaced and resumed the story.

Briar’s eyes widened at every misdeed listed. The fork was put down and a hand covered her red lips when she told the man had her mother fired from the company and prevented her from getting another singing job in London, which almost caused her to be deported. A gasp when she shared how he used the press and Henrietta to damage her father’s image and ruin his first campaign for parliament.

“They did all of that? Seriously? Like villains from fairy-tales?”

“Pretty much…”

“That’s horrible!”

“He was a horrible racist man and Henrietta impersonates the evil step-mother role like a pro.”

“I could never imagine… Wow!” Briar’s fingers raked through her long black hair.

“My parents were pretty popular in the tabloids. Even after moving to Dorset paparazzi still followed them around… Well, until William and Kate took the spotlight.”

“Didn’t your grandfather want your father to be elected?”

“He did, but he wanted to show my father he needed him at his side. Or he’d never thrive in politics. He even threatened to disown him…”

“How petty,” Briar scoffed, and Elizabeth nodded. “So in the end your father chose the fortune over love?”

“Not exactly. There wasn’t that big of a fortune back then to be honest… The estate was almost bankrupt. My father still wanted to make it in politics and he wasn’t particularly excited with the idea of waiting until his father stepped out or died to take his spot… Parliament was his life-long dream,” Elizabeth paused and looked outside. “Mamãe said she saw how torn he was, so she chose for him. She couldn’t work here; not as a singer, at least. After my first birthday, she just packed up our stuff and left.”

“I thought she loved him!”

“She did. She loved him until the end, but… Things were too complicated… Love wasn’t enough…”

“That’s so bloody unfair!” Briar exclaimed.

“Is life ever really fair?” Elizabeth mused, and came to her mind every smile and gaze her parents shared whenever they met. “Henrietta married him, became the Countess, just like she wanted. And my mother turned into a scandalous indiscretion of his past…”

“That’s awfully sad,” Briar sighed and gently pulled Elizabeth’s hand away from her mouth when she tried to chew on her cuticles once more. Her dark eyes fixed on her friend’s desolated face. “Are you sure you don’t want another piece of pie, Lizzy?”

“I’m alright,” Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked away, trying to hide unshed tears. Her fingers rubbed her eyes.

“Is that why you won’t date Luke or the Arab friend you’re smitten? Because your family would oppose?”

“Hamid is Turkish, and I’m not smitten,” she corrected her, “And the answer is no, my father is nothing like his father…” 

*****

“Good morning, Briar!” Elizabeth greeted approaching her friend at the cafe near the university.

“Whoa! Red lipstick?” She gaped. “Colour me impressed!”

“Is it too much?” Elizabeth’s fingertips touched her mouth and she felt the urge to remove it with one of the wipes in her bag.

“No! It looks good” she said and gently pulled her hand down. With a mischievous smile she studied the other from head to toe. “Lovely skirt. And you’re wearing heels? Who are you trying to impress, Ms. Foredale?”

“Me? No one!” Elizabeth’s cheeks blushed and she lowered her eyes.

Not a word would leave her mouth about the time to put on an outfit together this morning or the three lipstick that coloured her lips before she settled on this one. Even longer to convince herself to wait to meet Hamid tonight at the cinema and not skip classes to go to his lecture.

“Just wanted to try something different, I guess,” she said twirling a curl of her brown hair.

“I like it. And for the record, I support you adventuring and trying new things… Life is too short to not be bold.”

While they waited the coffee, Elizabeth considered Briar’s words and wondered if she should just cross the street. A glimpse at her mobile. Less than one hour until the lecture starts. Looking over her shoulder at one of the university buildings, she thought if Hamid was already there.

*****

Elizabeth and Briar were walking down the hallway when the second made a shrieking sound and tugged at her friend’s arm, almost knocking down the cup of coffee the other was holding.

“What’s the matter?” trying to balance her cup, Elizabeth questioned in a high pitch tone, head darting to face her friend.

Leaning towards Elizabeth, she whispered excitedly, lips barely moving, “Thank goodness! Hot Turkish guy is back!” Her free hand went to her head and her fingers ran through her long black hair.

“Who?”

A coquettish smile on Briar’s lips, when with a suggestive look her eyes moved from her friend’s face towards someone ahead in the crowded hallway.

Elizabeth’s eyes followed and wandered from face to face before finding Hamid. The man standing in a corner, wearing as usual a perfect tailored suit in a dark grey hue. His blue eyes squinted as he observed students walking by. When their gazes meet, he waved and with confident strides made a beeline for Elizabeth.

“Why is Hot Turkish guy coming this way? Do you know him?”

“That’s Hamid. We’re friends.”

“Elizabeth! So good to see you!” he said in a cheerful tone flashing a wide grin, that crinkled the corners of his eyes and dimpled his cheeks.

“It’s good to see you too, Hamid! But what are you doing here?”

“Have you forgotten already? I’m presenting my paper today.”

“I know you are. But the auditorium you’re supposed to present it is not even at this building…” she said with a little smirk.

“Is it not?” he feigned surprise.

Shaking her head, without hiding a smile, she held his gaze.

“Then you should help me find it. I might be lost,” he suggested with a soft tone, as a hand lightly brushed her arm and rested over the emerald sleeve of her sweater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mamãe - Portuguese word - An endearing term for mother; mom.


	13. Chapter Twelve - Push My Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.  
* Portuguese words are translated on the notes in the end.  
* Many thanks to @princess-geek for being my beta on this chapter :)

Most of the time, Elizabeth prefers not to be seen. The shyness prompting a natural inclination to hide from people’s eyesight and judgement whenever possible; genuinely comfortable away from the spotlight, she finds it much more enjoyable to be on her own skin when unnoticed.

However, when Hamid’s bright eyes met hers in the hallway, the significant gaze he casts at her fills her heart with joy. That’s the extraordinary power they possess: she doesn’t mind at all if the man sees her, it’s rather the opposite, since he seems to notice what only few others can. Even if she cannot help the heat creeping its way to her cheeks when they do, she always hopes his eyes fall upon her. Just like they did now.

“You should help me find it. I might be lost.”

Hamid’s smooth silvery voice reached her ears like music and her legs were eager to follow him wherever his invitation takes her, while her brain screamed about classes and responsibility. The broad smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and produced the dimples she adores, chased those thoughts and any other away. Elizabeth’s cherry lips curled revealing a grin she didn’t struggle against which rounded her cheeks. A _yes_ lying on her tongue waiting to be free like a caged bird.

Instinctively leaning towards her, his hand rested on her arm, fingers brushing against the emerald sweater. This proximity caused her heart to beat faster and louder, like it often does in similar situations, but not sufficiently loud to mute the world around them. The coughing beside her broke into their moment and caught her attention. Elizabeth’s head jerked to the side and Briar’s smirk reminded her where she was.

_Oh, God! How long did I stare at him like a creep?_

Reacting at the ignored presence, Elizabeth leaped back, while Hamid’s hand retreated to his side, but the smile remained on his lips.

“Sorry! Hamid Osmanoğlu that’s my friend Briar Daly.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Daly,” Hamid said and shook her hand.

“You too. But, please, call me Briar.”

“You look familiar… Were you in the attendance of my lecture here last May?”

“Oh! Right! That’s where I recognise you from!”

Elizabeth casted a puzzled look at Briar; the brunette’s dark eyes opened wide, a wordless statement and their gaze returned to Hamid. 

“Great speech by the way,” Briar said flirty, a hand running through her long black hair.

“Thank you. I remember you posed a very interesting question at the time…”

They exchanged a few words on the subject under Elizabeth’s attentive gaze. Hamid shared a content smile with the brunette, before his attention shifted to Elizabeth once more, while she took the cup to her mouth.

“I am early for my presentation and I was going to offer to buy you coffee, but I see you already got one.”

“If you’ve told me you’d stop by, we could have had coffee together, Hamid,” Elizabeth said and drank the remaining of the cappuccino.

“Allow me.” While he took the empty cup from her hand to throw it on a bin a few steps away from them, Briar’s lips moved soundless with more questions than Elizabeth could answer in his brief absence.

“Since we’re past coffee time,” Hamid suggested, “maybe you could escort me to the right building, Liz…”

“Sorry, Hamid!” She looked at Briar and down to her hands. “I have a class –" Elizabeth was interrupted when Briar nudged her side.

“You still have time, Lizzy. And you can have my notes, if you’re late.”

“Okay. But I can’t go all the way to the other building,” she pursed her lips and looked up at Hamid.

“That’s fine. Just walk me back to the lift and keep me a little company…”

Elizabeth acquiesced and Briar observed when she smiled, and Hamid placed his hand on her back and they walked past other students.

“I’m sorry you came all this way and I can’t spend more time with you…” Elizabeth said softly.

“It’s alright. I should’ve checked with you first,” he said stopping a few metres from the lifts. His hand on her arm gently guiding her closer to the wall and out of the way of students rushing to classrooms. “For now, I’ll settle for a motivational speech and that good luck kiss you’ve mentioned.”

“With all your confidence, why you even need a motivational speech? We’ve talked about it, you’ll be great!” She giggled and added, “I’ll even let you borrow my Kafka’s reference…”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, possibly triggered by the memory of their conversation the other day, and his gaze fixed on hers. “Great speech! Everything I needed to hear,” he said grinning, “I feel very motivated already. How about my good luck kiss?”

She cocked her head and Hamid mimicked her gesture, his eyes lingering on her cherry lips.

“Weren’t all those kisses yesterday enough?” asked Elizabeth.

“Do you mean the emojis, the gifs and the weird cat meme?”

“It’s funny! She kissed the cat!” she chuckled.

“It was in Portuguese. It made no sense to me…”

“I translated it,” she corrected him and mockingly pushed his chest, “Besides, I’ve seen you laugh at unfunnier things.”

He snorted and his hand trapped hers against his chest. Leaning closer, his soft voice reached her ear, his warm breath fanning her locks. “I don’t know about that…” With a smile, he tucked a curl of hair behind her ear, causing a flood of blood to rush to her face. “What I do know is that I was promised a good luck kiss. And I’m here to receive said kiss in person.”

Elizabeth lowered her eyes to their hands. The smoothness of his voice contrasting with the accelerated beating of his heart.

“One kiss?” she breathed her question.

“Unless you’re feeling generous… I wouldn’t mind receiving as many as those emojis.”

“One friendly kiss on the cheek?”

“Perfect.”

The curls bounced around her face when she scanned the hallway before moving closer. Looking up and palms on each side of his clean-shaved jaw, she cupped his face. Beneath her fingers, she felt the pulsation on his neck, almost as quick as her own, and his muscles moving when he swallowed. Elizabeth wonders if he ever feels the flutter of butterflies on his stomach, like she does.

Gently, his face was brought down to hers. Without averting each other’s gaze, faces inching closer, Hamid grinned. His mint breath impossible to ignore.

Elizabeth’s lips touched his left cheek, lingering there and she revelled on his velvet skin and delightful fresh scent.

Realizing how long she held him like that, she withdrew her hands at once. “There! Good luck!” she said while her fingers hastily tucked some curls behind her ears.

“Thank you!” he said softly, fingertips touching where her lips were a second prior.

“Sorry! I forgot about the lipstick!” she exclaimed unzipping the bag and fumbling with its content. “Let me clean it for you.”

“Why would I want it clean?” He winked when her eyes met his.

“You’re kidding?”

“No.”

“You can’t go to your presentation like this!”

“Why not? It’s my good luck kiss.”

“Don’t be silly.” A wipe was taken out of a package and soon she was brushing it against his cheek, and he did not protest. Bright eyes fixed on her face while she worked on the stain, an ear-to-ear teeth showing smile playing on his lips.

_This smile is for me, _she thinks and her heart thumps louder. _If only things were different… _Her chest heaved with a deep breath.

Wipe in hand, she stepped back, cherry red lips pulled, baring a fraction of her white teeth in a coy smile exclusively for him.

When his mouth opened to speak again, he was interrupted by a feminine voice calling his name.

“Hamid!” the voice called again, drawing their eyes and attention to the brunette and the hand resting on his shoulder. “What a nice surprise!”

“Miss Bowman,” said Hamid, the surprised expression turning into a polite and friendly smile. “How do you do?”

“I’m fine.” With confidence, she stepped closer and they exchanged two air kisses. “And I’ve told you too many times to call me Donna.”

Glaring at Elizabeth, the woman’s hand reached his chest.

_Seriously, Hamid? Even Donna Bowman? At least Natasha wasn’t mean._

Elizabeth looked away, trying to hide her annoyance. The moist wipe squeezed between her fingers whilst she considered walking away. Instead, she stayed. _Just friends, _her mind repeats the mantra. _Don’t make a scene._

“Are you meeting Felicity and she failed to mention it?” asked Donna.

“No. I’m here to see Elizabeth and convince her to attend my lecture. Have you two met?”

“Yes,” she replied flatly without looking at the other, “A lecture?”

“For the IR undergrads.”

“How exciting! Is it today?”

“It starts in exactly thirty-five minutes to be precise,” he said peeking at his watch.

“Maybe I should skip my boring class, then…” One long nail shining like a pearl raked a button of his shirt, and she lowered her tone. “How can I pass on the opportunity to learn more from my favourite intellectual.”

The man chuckled and its sound caused Elizabeth to grimace.

“Hamid, I must go,” Elizabeth spoke softly and tried to take a step, but Hamid reached for her. His hand encircled her wrist before she could walk away.

“Donna, could you excuse us?”

“Oh, of course. I’ll wait by the lift, Hamid.”

“It’s kind of you, but you should hurry to get a good seat,” he suggested with a smile and the smugness faded from her face, but she forced a collected expression when she agreed to leave.

“I gotta go to class now,” Elizabeth said, head hanging low, eyes fixed on the other woman’s shoe tapping on the floor in front of the lift’s doors.

Loosening his grip from her wrist, his hand slid to his side and he tried to meet her eyes.

“Are you upset?”

“No… I… ‘Course not,” she stuttered, “I’m just late for class… and I hate being late.”

“Is that all? You know you can tell me anything, no?”

The lift door closed and her green eyes returned to his face. Arms crossed in front of her chest, she pondered for a moment.

“I’m just surprised you and Donna Bowman know each other. And Felicity too.”

“Haven’t I mentioned it?” She shook her head. “The event your friend mentioned, they organized it.”

“You’re friends?”

Hamid hummed, taking his time to answer. “More like acquaintances. I know Felicity’s father from Parliament, and he introduced us. I’ve met her and Donna in a few occasions…” he shrugged. “Why?”

“Nothing… I just wouldn’t assume that you… you knew them… or socialize with them,” she trailed off and bit at her thumbnail.

“Is that jealousy I sense?” he asked with a smirk.

“O quê?¹ Não²! It was just unexpected… They just don’t strike me as… as… your kind of people…”

“My kind of people? Which exactly is my kind of people?” his questions lilting with amusement.

“Never mind.” She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. “I should go now.”

“Are you sure you’re not coming? I’d feel like a Rock star if you were on the first row cheering me on.”

“People don’t cheer on lecturers, Hamid…”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he said softly, and she smiled back at him.

The buzzing decreased as the hallway emptied. His eyes studied their surroundings and he gave a gentle squeeze on her hand, “You’ve kept me company far too long. I’ll let you go to class.”

“Good luck!” She squeezed his hand back.

“Do I get another kiss?”

“Anytime I say good luck will you ask for a kiss?”

“Maybe…” he smiled, “Will it work?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely…” she teased, not meeting his eyes.

“I do everything nicely,” he said raising his eyebrows. “So…”

The cheeky grin playing on his lips prompted Elizabeth to smile back.

Moving closer, she stood on her tiptoes, placed her hands on his shoulders, and pressed a soft kiss to his right cheek. Her lips touched it with gentleness and caution to not taint his warm bronze skin; even though, deep down, she considered covering him with red marks to spite Donna Bowman.

Unexpectedly, his arms encircled her in a hug. After a moment of hesitation, her arms joined behind his neck. This was the closest they’ve been since the afternoon at the opera more than two weeks prior. His chin rested on her shoulder, cheek touching cheek, and a shiver ran down her spine. The fresh perfume reached her nose, and she shut her eyes to savour it. Wordlessly the hug lingered.

“Obrigado³,” he said softly.

Her eyes fluttered open hearing the Portuguese word. “What are you thanking me for, Hamid?”

“For being supportive and helping me with my presentation,” he replied, and the muscles on his face pulled into a smile. His arms loosen their grip and the heels of her boots touched the floor. Stricken by surprise, she looked down and mumbled, “Oh! You… It was nothing… you don’t need to thank me for any of that… I didn’t…”

“I want to,” he explained, “I consider myself lucky to have met you. You are unique.”

“You should…” She giggled; eyes fixed on his black shoes. “My awkwardness makes me quite unique.”

“I never met someone like you. And I already consider you a friend. A good friend.”

She smiled at his words and Hamid took a few steps to the lift, pressed the button and turned around to face her. “See you later.”

“Good luck,” she said softly biting her lip and his eyes lighted. 

His index finger tapped on his cheek three times, and she inched closer. A peck too quick and too close to the corner of his mouth was pressed.

“I tainted you again,” she pointed out and pressed the wipe into his palm.

“Thanks!” he said beaming and walked inside the lift, not breaking eye-contact until the doors shut.

*****

“I still can’t believe Hot Turkish guy is _the_ friend!” Briar spoke in a hushed tone while they walked past other students on their way out of the classroom. “I totally understand now. I too would smile a lot at my mobile!”

“I still can’t believe everyone knows everyone around here!” Elizabeth muttered, “It’s like we’re in freaking Manoel Carlos’4 Leblon5!”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

“Anyway, don’t get all possessive… I’ve met him first. I might try to hold my claim. He remembered me and my clever question.” Briar playfully nudged her and giggled.

“I wasn’t referring to you… He knows Donna and Felicity.” Elizabeth’s face contorted with a grimace when she uttered their names.

“Oh! That’s right. The lecture! Donna was totally lovesick after that. I overheard a lot of conversations about how dreamy Mr. Diplomat Guy was.” Briar mockingly batted her eyelashes.

“By the way she acted around him, I guess she’s still into him. The honeyed voice and those manicured nails on his chest like she owned him or something…” she huffed and bit one nail. “Ugh! And she went to his lecture.”

“You could’ve been there yourself; Hot Turkish guy came all the way here to invite you personally,” Briar said and pulling Elizabeth’s hand away from her mouth, she added, “And you can have manicured nails too if you stop biting yours.”

“I don’t want manicured nails,” she mumbled and Briar looked at her amused.

“Are you jealous of all your friends or just Hamid?”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Yeah, right…”

“I’m not! Why would I be jealous? It makes no sense. At all. Absolutely not. This is a preposterous idea… Absurd and… Just –" Briar shot a knowing glance and she stopped rambling. “I just don’t think Donna is a good match for him…”

“I would not worry about Donna if I were you.”

“Why?”

“He’s into you too.”

“He is?”

Briar’s head shook slowly from side to side and a sly grin parted her lips.

“It… It doesn’t matter… we’re friends. We both know it.”

“Just keep saying that until you believe it, Lizzy,” Briar teased and linked her arm with hers, “You can tell me if you’re in love with him. Don’t mind Ann’s words, I could never gossip about you…”

“There’s nothing to gossip about anyway.”

“It’s impossible to ignore all the sparkles flying around you and Hot Turkish Guy. You look lovely together, by the way.”

“Do you always call him that?”

“No, sometimes I call him Adonis too… And there’s a lot of other names I’ve been wanting to call him in private if our paths ever crossed again… but it’s wiser not to tell you now.” she laughed.

“Oh! You’re terrible.” Elizabeth failed to stifle a laughter, and they both cackled.

They took a few steps and Briar said looking at her, “He seems like a nice guy…”

“He’s really nice.”

“Not to mention he’s so easy on the eye…” She winked. “I can’t wait for lunch tomorrow! He’ll be such a perfect fit to our merry group.”

*****

The late afternoon sun casts a fading light through the large window of the room at the third floor. A glance outside and Elizabeth’s fingers reached for the lamp over the desk. For a moment, her gaze fixed on a few birds chirping at the garden bellow, before her undivided attention was back on the open book in front of her. The highlighter glided colouring the white pages. 

The rapping on the door brought her eyes up from the notebook.

“It’s open.”

Her grandmother greeted her from the door. A white envelope on her hands caught Elizabeth’s attention.

“May I have a word with you?”

“Of course, grandma. Come on in.”

The pen put down on the desk, and with curiosity Elizabeth watched Lady Dominique’s quiet steps take her straight to the bench at the feet of the bed; swiveling the chair, she faced her and noticed the familiar worry crease between her eyebrows.

“We need to have a word about the tea with the Queen.”

“Did they set a date, grandma?”

“Not yet.” The woman said with a tone matching the seriousness of her expression. “But I’ve received an e-mail from the Queen’s press secretary that might upset you. They were looking into you and they found this article online.” A stack of papers was taken from the white envelope and offered to Elizabeth, who stood up and reached for them. Her eyes glanced at the first page.

“What language is this? I can’t read – Oh, my God!” She covered her mouth and all colour drained from her face.

“They included a translated version, dear.”

Gobsmacked, Elizabeth examined several pictures taken during her date with Hamid the day after they met: the couple strolling at Hyde Park, walking hand in hand at the Royal Opera’s entrance and the nearly kiss in front of the café. The flashing light that day instantly came to her mind, and she chastised herself for not paying more attention to it.

_How did I not notice it before?_ she thought, while skimming through the article from a Turkish magazine who called her the mysterious British woman and included her to the long list of Hamid’s girlfriends.

“I can’t believe it… These photos…” she muttered under her breath.

“I assume they were interested in the man you’re with. It’s mostly about him,” she paused and didn’t try to conceal the judgement when her mouth opened again, “And his extensive list of lovers.”

“I’m just… so embarrassed,” Elizabeth said pacing back and forth while reading the translated version, “And a little surprised… I have such a boring life… I was never… And now this!”

“The article is not particularly flattering, but its content is not exactly harmful to you either. I had Mrs. Carlton’s do some research, and as far as she can tell, the pictures were not published by any tabloid in England. Thus, there is no reason for us to draw any unnecessary attention to it.”

“Good,” Elizabeth sighed, “Why did they send you this, grandma?”

“They asked about the status of your relationship with him.”

“My relationship? But… why?” Green eyes widened darting to the woman, she halted.

“Possibly for future social gatherings, conversations topics, the usual,” she replied patting the space next to her at the bench. Elizabeth complied and sat down.

Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, Lady Dominique confided, “I suspect this was also a way for us to acknowledge they are aware of your _liaison _with this man.”

“Do you think they’ll investigate him if they think he’s my boyfriend?”

“Be certain they already did that, my darling. Regardless of the answer we will provide.”

“The article could pose a problem? Regarding the title?” asked Elizabeth with a small voice.

“Absolutely not,” Lady Dominique paused and looked Elizabeth in the eyes. “Although, it could seem odd you just arrived here and are already being spotted with an Iranian man.”

“He’s from Turkey.”

“You know what I mean.” The elderly woman waved her hands dismissively.

“No, I don’t.”

“I suppose this relationship could raise concerns with possible ties with… How should I put it? Extremists? Is that the word they use nowadays?”

“Extremists?” Elizabeth gasped. “Grandma, Hamid is a diplomat! His father is a State Minister.”

“You must understand, my dear, this is not only a social gathering with a dear friend. The Queen’s agenda is public. It would be mostly unpleasant if Her Majesty receives someone who might harm her image in the public eye. This is expected.”

“I can understand that, but Hamid is nothing like that… Are you suggesting that my friendship with a Muslim man is undesirable?”

The elderly woman pursed her lips, and Elizabeth couldn’t refrain from asking in a harsh unusual tone. “Is this a problem to you, grandma?”

“Don’t be absurd, Elizabeth!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t attend the tea…”

“You are not a child anymore, my dear. You have duties to fulfill. One day you’ll be the Countess, you can’t just avoid uncomfortable situations,” she said softly, “Besides, this relationship might pose a problem to your father as well.”

“How come?”

“Vincent receives so many criticism on his stand on the refugees’ question… I believe it might get worse if the word spread.”

“Dad knows about my friendship with Hamid,” she explained, “He never showed any sign of concern. On the contrary.”

The elderly woman flashed a tight-lipped smile and sighed. “My Vincent has a good heart, but he’s not known for being a practical man.” 

Elizabeth swallowed hard knowing she was the living proof of her grandmother’s argument.

“Does father know about the article?”

“I believe we can solve this matter without disturbing him, don’t you agree?”

She nodded. There was so much teasing from her father she could endure.

“What should I tell them? Are you or are you not in a relationship with him?”

The question caused Elizabeth to frown and wonder if the Queen’s staff was truly interested in such information.

“We have a relationship, grandma. He’s my friend.”

The small satisfied smile indicating she was pleased with that answer. At least for now.

Heartbeat quickening, Elizabeth took her finger to her mouth and started biting at her cuticles. “Don’t,” Lady Dominque said softly and pulled her hand down.

“I can understand the reasons you would like him. I remember when Vincent introduced us at Edgewater, he was remarkably charming,” smiling, she whispered, “And tall and handsome.”

Elizabeth blushed at her grandmother’s words and muttered, “He’s more than that, grandma.”

“I am quite aware the times are changing. Vincent and I do not expect you to find a life partner at such a young age… Or at all, if that’s not your desire.” She gently patted Elizabeth’s knee. “However, if you’d accept a piece of advice, I would recommend you to be careful. To carry on a romantic relationship with someone with such a history… That list is extensive and it might only end –”

“Some are just friends,” Elizabeth interrupted repeating what Hamid told her once. _Do I believe him?_

“Associating with him could create problems regarding your privacy, which you always cherished. I predict your face on a tabloid article won’t be a one-time occurrence.”

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. Her grandmother could be right. _Would it be so horrible to pay this price for Hamid’s company? _

They remained quiet for a moment, Elizabeth mulling on the facts she just learned and considering how to share the news with Hamid.

Lady Dominique tried to meet her gaze and her soft voice broke the silence. “If I could say so, a man like Ernest Sinclaire would provide a more suitable companionship. Such a friendship could do wonders for both of you.”

_How on earth did this conversation shift to Sinclaire?_ Elizabeth frowned and gazed at her grandmother.

“I assume you are getting along better now. I noticed you had a pleasant conversation at dinner the other night.”

Three times they’ve been together so far and none of those encounters could be classified as pleasant, alternating uncomfortable silences, monosyllabic answers and trivial topics suggested by one of their grandmothers.

Frowning, Elizabeth supposes her grandmother was referring to their latest encounter when they talked about death penalty; even though they were both against it, somehow the subject led to a heated argument on something entirely different that she cannot recall and they spent the rest of the dinner glaring at each other.

“He is a discreet young man and would be a reliable friend.” The elderly woman’s hand touched her granddaughter’s knee again, trying to draw her attention back to her.

“I can’t see us becoming friends,” Elizabeth blurted out, avoiding her grandmother’s stare.

“I hope you might change your mind someday, my dear.”

“Have they answered if the Duchess of Sussex will join us?”

“They have not.”

Elizabeth mockingly pouted and the other woman gaped.

“Are you more excited to meet this woman than the Queen herself?” The surprise unconcealed in her tone.

“What can I say? I’m a fan,” she shrugged, “Can we take selfies there?”

“Elizabeth, I will have Mrs. Carlton forwarding you the email about the ceremonial once more. I presume you still have not read it. This is as important as your lessons from Law school. Even more, if I may say so.“

The young woman stifled a giggle and promised to take the matter seriously from now on, even though she has read the e-mail several times and memorized everything she’s supposed to know about the ceremonial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. O quê? - What?  
2\. Não! - No!  
3\. Obrigado - Thank you  
4\. Manoel Carlos - A Brazilian soap opera’s author  
5\. Leblon - A neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro


	14. Chapter Thirteen - My Kind of Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.  
* I want to thank @princess-geek for being my beta on this chapter and indulge my obsession with Hamid and this series 💚

Every table at the small cafeteria near the university was occupied. The familiar atmosphere with the clinking of silverware, the buzzing of a multitude of voices and the smell of fried fish hanging in the air. At a table in the back, the group of friends was ready to eat their lunch.

Luke observed the plate in front of him; green eyes filled with suspicion. The fork twirled capturing strings of spaghetti.

“Not to be that guy, but…” His gaze moved from the plate to Briar’s face when he asked, “Can you explain again why you girls come here?”

“It’s cozy and the food is deli–”

“It’s cheap,” Annabelle cut Briar off flatly.

“No! That’s not the reason!” Briar protested and Annabelle insisted that the price was the main reason, while the other still argued that the quality of the food was the most relevant motive. Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Luke shared a soundless chuckle watching their brief debate.

“It tastes better than it looks,” Elizabeth said softly and took the sandwich to her mouth and he ate a small piece of a meatball and smiled at her.

Tilting his head, the man’s eyes lingered on her face, alight with something Elizabeth couldn’t figure out and she lowered her gaze. Not knowing what to do, she peeked at her mobile and her lips curled up. Biting at the cuticle of her index finger, she read a few incoming texts from Hamid.

In between bites, the group shared stories and laughter, like they usually do, and this time even Elizabeth shared one story about herself. Soon, lunch hour was coming to an end and Annabelle raised from her seat.

“See you Friday night, darlings! Pretentious art won’t sell itself to pretentious people without my help.”

“Cheer up, you’re living the dream, Ann.”

“Not quite…” Annabelle retorted, taking the sunglasses out of her purse. “But soon I will.” She grinned, blew kisses at her friends and left.

Elizabeth swallowed the last piece of the sandwich while Briar explained the train system to Luke and offered advices on the cheapest ways to go to Paris.

“I’m going to the loo,” Elizabeth whispered to Briar.

“Aw! You just talked like a British. That’s adorable, Lizzy!”

“Stop it!” Hiding a small smile, she walked away taking her bag.

Luke’s eyes followed Elizabeth, until she disappeared in a narrow corridor after the counter. With hands clasped, he rested his elbows on the table leaning forward and watched the remaining woman drinking juice.

“So… who is this Hamid guy you were talking about?”

His question caused Briar’s dark brown eyes to move from the glass to him. “Why?”

“Just curiosity… You guys had lunch with him last week, Annabelle mentioned she went to the museum with Elizabeth and he was there too…”

Briar hummed while he spoke and fought the sudden urge to flash a victorious smile, keeping a straight face.

“So, who is he?”

“A guy we know…”

“Does he go to King’s too?”

“No, he’s a diplomat.”

“Cool.”

“Totally.” 

The man’s fingers rhythmically drummed at the table and Briar took the glass back to her lips, hiding an amused smile. The man scratched his chin, fingernails raking the three-day stubble, and by the look on his face, the woman was certain more questions would follow.

After a moment of silence, his voice came out low and hesitant, “Is he Elizabeth’s boyfriend?”

“Oooh! I knew it!” Briar cried and pointed a finger at him.

“Someone has a crush!” she chanted, and Luke’s eyes raked their surroundings filled with concern. When the singing ceased, Briar asked in a conspiratorial tone, a victorious grin playing on her lips, “Is that why you come all this way to hang with us?”

“Just forget it,” Luke sighed and picked up his backpack. “Gotta go.”

“No! Stay! You can talk to me!” Briar pressed her palms against the table and leaned forward.

“With one condition. You’re never doing that singing again.”

“I can’t promise that…”

“Alright,” he said and made a spectacle of putting his headphones on and standing up. “Tell Elizabeth I said bye.”

“You can tell yourself. I know you’re not going anywhere,” she narrowed her eyes and said louder, arms crossed in front of her chest, “I have information. Information you really want.”

Peeking from his phone to her face, he shook his head at the sly smile parting her red lips and dark eyes glistening with mischief.

“Fine,” he scoffed and put his backpack down.

“Information is power, mate!”

“Don’t gloat.”

A loud laugh escaped her mouth and a few heads turned around to face her.

She clasped her hands, and offered, “For a small fee I’ll help you.”

“What kind of fee?”

“Ice-cream. I’m in the mood…”

Headphones hanging around his neck, he slumped on the chair, and her gaze took him in.

“What do you want to know?”

“Is this Hamid guy the boyfriend?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s usually a simple question. Is he or is he not?”

“Not. But I also want to say he is…”

“Are you messing with me?”

“A bit.”

“Briar.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and she fought the urge to laugh again.

“It’s complicated. You have to see them together to understand.”

“Is he meeting us at the pub Friday?” She nodded and he didn’t try to conceal his disappointment. “Are they, you know, going out?”

Briar swivelled on the chair to have a better view of the restaurant.

“Just as friends. Well, at least, that’s what she keeps saying…”

He hummed and stared at his own hands.

“Are you asking her out?”

“I don’t know… I thought about it… Sometimes it feels like there’s something that… I was hoping to have a chance to talk to her alone at the pub… Do you think I should, you know, ask her out?”

“Yes!”

“Are you still messing with me?”

“No!”

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“What do you think?” she propped her chin on her hands and looked him straight in the eyes.

“If I knew the answer, why would I be asking?”

“Maybe you like talking to me and find me amusing…” She raised her eyebrows and grinned.

“I do. But that’s not the point.” He flashed a large smile rounding his cheeks. “You two are closer. And girls talk about things… What you think? Will it be too awkward if I invited her to the movies or something?”

“Since you are being perfectly nice and will buy me ice-cream…”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Won’t you humour me?” She batted her eyelashes

“Fine,” he scoffed; however, he couldn’t fight the smile that curled the corners of his lips.

“Good. I know a place… They have dozens of flavours. You must taste the butterscotch with – Oh! I digress. We can talk about this later. – Anyway, she never says much, but she thinks you’re attractive, though.”

“Seriously?” His eyes lighted at her words.

“Don’t do that! You know you caused her to blush fifty shades of red when you flirted with her the day you met!” A low chuckled rumbled from his chest and he smiled to himself. “I could ask her about it –”

“Please don’t! We’re not high schoolers! I can invite a girl out on my own… I just want to avoid making things too awkward. I know she’s shy and all that, and there’s this other guy thing…”

“Then just talk to her,” Briar whispered, watching Elizabeth walk back to the table.

He shook his head, and quietly said, “I’ll test the waters first.”

When Elizabeth approached them, Briar got up and said, “Pick up your jacket, Lizzy! We’re having ice-cream. Luke is buying.”

*****

Cheers erupted near the counter, but at least one man’s gaze wasn’t directed at the match on the screen. 

Elizabeth took a sip at her soda and covered her mouth with the glass while she spoke to Briar in a conspiratorial fashion. “Don’t look now, but the cute guy you were talking at the bar keeps looking this way.”

Briar peeked over her shoulder. “He really is cute, innit?” She dramatically exhaled. “What a shame!”

“Why? Was he rude to you? Is he pro-Brexit?” Annabelle asked and considered the group of men piling at the bar.

“He was just too obvious. The one question about me was if I came here often and not so subtly, he added how conveniently close his flat is.” Briar rolled her eyes.

“Very straightforward,” Annabelle pointed out and gulped her wine. “No wonder he kept staring at your bottom while you talked.”

“I can’t blame him for that… They do look particularly round and nice in these trousers. However, after the whole fiasco with that yoga instructor, I won’t ignore those signs anymore…”

“You deserve so much better than those losers you insist on dating… I wonder if you’ll ever realise that…” Annabelle stated.

“It’s not about self-esteem, Ann…” Briar sighed.

“Then what is it?” the other insisted.

“Besides amusing you lasses with my funny anecdotes about these unfortunate dates?” The humourless laugh didn’t echo amongst her friends, and Elizabeth flashed a sympathetic smile. “How can one know a guy is a rotter before getting to know him?”

Annabelle said, “Sometimes they don’t even have to open their mouths…”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement and ate another crisp, and passed the plate to Briar, who also picked up a few, and stared at one before taking a bite.

“Why is it so hard to find a nice guy?” Briar whined, a crisp moving along with her words.

“I don’t know…” Elizabeth shrugged.

“How about Luke?” Annabelle asked lowering her voice, “He’s not a git, right? And you keep checking him out whenever he’s not looking…”

“I’m not blind, Ann…” Briar rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested either.”

Gulping the beer, she looked at Elizabeth for a moment and down to the glass. “Besides, Luke’s got his eyes on someone else…”

“Really? Who?” Annabelle asked, gaze fixed in Briar’s face.

“I won’t gossip about a friend…”

“When did it ever stop you before?” Annabelle smirked downing the remaining of the wine, and Briar glared at her, before her attention shifted to the other woman. “What you think, Lizzy? Would it be awkward to ask him out?”

“Didn’t you just say he’s got his eyes on someone else?”

“He’s still single… Would it be awkward if I asked him out?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to go out with him?”

“Let’s suppose I do.”

Annabelle raised her eyebrows at the exchange between the two and took another olive to her mouth.

“Well, I’ve never asked anyone out…” Elizabeth sipped her drink and pondered for a while, her eyes going from Annabelle back to Briar. “I don’t even know which signs to look for and…” she trailed off.

“Sometimes you just have to take a chance.” Briar said matter-of-factly.

“Aren’t you afraid you could lose the friendship?”

“If I ask him and he’s not interested you think we couldn’t be friends anymore?”

“I don’t know… Maybe… It happens,” she shrugged and picked a crisp from the plate.

“I haven’t considered this possibility. Would you stop talking to someone who were interested and you were not?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, considering the answer, until she mumbled an inconclusive maybe. Elizabeth shifted in her seat, and looked away, avoiding Briar’s stare. “With the little experience I have,” she uttered softly, “I don’t think I’m even qualified to give this kind of advice. You should definitely ask someone else… Ann is here. Why don’t you ask her?”

Her hand grabbed a few crisps and she peeked at the mobile over the table. Another subject replaced Briar’s inquisition, and the trio resumed talking animatedly. Loud cheers, boos and hisses interrupting them from time to time.

With a clear view to the door, Elizabeth’s eyes darted when it opened with a ring, just as they did every other time before. A small smile when she recognized Luke in his white hoodie, however her eyes lowered to the mobile again and she missed the way Briar frowned at the sight.

The tall man walked around a few noisy costumers piling in front of a television and marched to the table at the back. He greeted the trio with air kisses, and took a seat beside Briar, as she indicated.

“Sorry, I’m late. I got distracted writing a paper…”

“It’s alright. We haven’t been here long,” Annabelle assured him.

“Besides, it’s Friday night and no one needs to leave anytime soon. We can stay until the pub closes.”

“I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth said. “I was still planning on getting home and work on Professor Richards’ essay.”

“It’s due two Mondays from today,” Briar pointed out. “We have plenty of time, Lizzy.”

The next time the door opened with a ring, Hamid walked inside wearing a dark grey suit and a blue tie. The sight elicited the largest smile possible from Elizabeth’s lips. Getting up, she waved at him, oblivious to the knowing look Briar and Luke shared.

Hamid nodded to the bar keepers and made a beeline to the table at the back, greeting them cheerfully. As usual, he complimented the women’s attires and playfully kissed Briar’s knuckles when she returned the praise.

“You are a flatterer, Ms. Daly.” Her head tipped back with laughter and her red lips curled into an unabashed grin at him. “I’m learning from the master.” She winked and both laughed.

Before standing up to introduce himself, Luke’s green eyes examined the other man with interest, perusing from the coiffed dark hair, to the wide white grin and then inspected the clearly expensive suit he was sporting. His hand was offered for a shake, and Hamid took it and said it was a pleasure meeting him, words reciprocated by the other.

When Luke returned to his seat, Hamid took the one Elizabeth had saved beside her and she couldn’t hide the persistent smile curling her lips.

Leaning, the man’s arm snaked to the back of her chair, and he whispered, “Can we sit this close? Aren’t you afraid the MI5¹ might be watching us?”

“Aren’t you tired of this joke, dude?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“Absolutely not,” whispering, he placed a quick peck on her cheek. Elizabeth turned to face him and knew he could see his lips had tinted her cheeks a hue darker than the makeup. “I apologise in advance about the e-mail your grandmother will receive about this very indecent PDA.”

“Oh! Stop it!” Elizabeth nudged his side, drawing a chuckle from him, and added in a low tone, “Or I’ll have someone changing seat with me.”

“You wouldn’t… you’d miss me too much,” he said beaming, and she sighed, feigning annoyance.

Self-conscious of the warmth on her face, the woman’s eyes avoided his, trying to focus on the others. However, her body didn’t move, her shoulder remained resting against the crook of his arm.

Soon, Hamid and Annabelle were in deep conversation, just as they did when visiting the Tate. The woman shared details about her photographic project and the female photographers she was drawing inspiration from and the man posed many questions. Meanwhile, Luke was telling Briar about a series he binge-watched a few days ago. The scene caused Elizabeth to smile to herself, comfortable around them as she hasn’t felt in a group of people in a long time. She gulped the remaining of her diet coke and her eyes inspected the table: the tray with crisps was almost empty as were the other four glasses. Softly, to not interrupt their conversations, Elizabeth said she was getting this round and got up.

“I’ll help you,” Luke offered and immediately jumped to his feet.

Hamid seemed disconcerted by the gesture at first, however, a neutral expression immediately replaced the gobsmacked one, when a smiling Luke checked what everyone was drinking.

Under Briar’s attentive gaze, Hamid’s eyes followed the couple and his mouth parted when Luke’s large hand rested on Elizabeth’s shoulder, guiding her to the bar. Lips close to her ear, he whispered something that caused her to tilt her chin up and smile.

A deep exhale and Hamid’s hand went to the tie’s knot, and his thumb caressed it for an instant. Annabelle’s question about his mother’s work at the Museum drew his attention back to his companions.

Once Luke and Elizabeth reached a clear spot at the bar, the man nodded to the bartender and was about to wave, when Elizabeth grabbed his wrist and motioned for him to approach.

On her tiptoes she whispered, “Never call them or flash the money. Hamid and Briar explained it’s considered rude and they will ignore you.”

“Then what do I do? Just stay here?” he frowned.

“You make eye contact and wait your turn,” she explained.

A grin rounded his warm bronze cheeks, and Luke asked, “Then what do we do while we wait?”

“We can eat peanuts or watch the match.”

“You shouldn’t even touch these,” he said pushing the bowl away from her hand with a disgusted face. “They have as many bacteria as the restrooms here.”

“Then we’ll watch the match,” she said giggling.

“I’m not really into soccer. A bunch of guys running after a ball…” he stated shaking his head, “not my thing.”

“Aren’t most sports a bunch of guys running after balls? Basketball, handball, your football with the weird shaped ball…”

“Okay! Got your point,” he chuckled. “I’m not into soccer.”

A trio of men next to them cheered at a goal and Luke’s eyes darted to the screen.

“It’s not even live…” he mumbled.

“The United’s fans are very passionate and even I can see that was a great match. Look at that crossing pass!”

“You like soccer?”

“At a reasonable amount.”

“United’s fan?”

“Liverpool,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “but don’t tell my father. He still thinks I’m a Blue’s fan like him.”

Swearing secrecy, Luke winked at her and glanced at the match when the referee called a foul on one of the United’s player.

“I never really got the fuss about soccer…”

“Maybe you’ll get it now that you’re here at the country with the greatest league.”

“Isn’t it Spain? The one with the best soccer?”

“You clearly know nothing about football,” she teased. “Keep your erroneous opinions down, if you don’t wanna get in trouble, mate,” she warned him with a grin, and he let out a wholehearted laughter. Both gazes returned to the television, before she asked, looking back at him, “So, how are you enjoying London?”

“It’s been good. I had this dream to come here for a long time, you know. I saved every dollar at every summer job since I was twelve.”

“I’m glad you got to do it.”

“It’s the ultimate dream. I took a picture at Abbey Road last week and it just hit me: I’m really here!”

“Beatles’ fan?”

“You bet. But Abbey Road is not just about The Beatles. It’s so iconic, you know. The artists that recorded there like Aretha Franklin, The Stones, Pink Floyd, Amy Winehouse… Man, it’s so absolutely relevant to the –”

Staring at him, Elizabeth looked amused with the excitement in his voice and he stopped talking.

“Sorry! I got totally carried away –”

“It’s alright.”

“The truth’s out: I’m a musical geek.”

“I like passionate people,” she said resting her elbows over the counter, and looked up at him. “Don’t you think it’s weird people who are _blasé_ and have no passion for any subject?”

“My thoughts exactly!”

Ignoring their task, they engaged on a conversation about music and soon were discussing the instruments he plays.

“You play the ukulele? Really?” Her voice carried her scepticism.

“You don’t believe me?” She shook her head. “If it has strings, I might try and play it. I like a challenge,” he concluded with a suggestive tone. “What about you?”

“I play the piano, like an accomplished lady must.”

“Obviously,” he beamed.

“I was supposed to learn the basics to impress guests at my grandmother’s gatherings, but I fell in love and even considered making a career in music.”

“Seriously?”

“Just for a second. I’d hate being on stage. That’s also why I stopped my singing lessons…”

“You sing?”

“Not to people who aren’t me,” she said, tucking a few curls behind her ears.

“Maybe you can change your mind and sing to me,” he whispered close to her ear and his warm breath fanned her locks.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” She shook her head, curls bouncing and whipping his cheek.

_What was that? Is he flirting with me? _Her cheeks blushed with the intensity of his gaze, and she looked away.

Observing her uneasiness, he straightened himself and broke the silence with a different subject. However, while they talked, Luke couldn’t ignore the numerous times Hamid’s gaze searched for them since they left the table. The same neutral expression studying them like a nature photographer patiently observing the subjects, waiting for the perfect moment. His attention going back and forth, discreet enough to not disturb his conversation with Annabelle.

As if feeling being observed, Elizabeth’s face swivelled and when their eyes meet, she smiled at Hamid. A large smile showing her teeth and wrinkling her nose, like none prompted by Luke’s company, as he noticed, and the man returned the gesture. Biting her lower lip, she looked away and Luke sighed. Briar’s words probably resonating in his mind, as he locked eyes with the bartender and finally placed their orders.

*****

“Malta?” Annabelle asked.

“Valetta,” replied Hamid quickly.

“Trivia?”

“Did you know the island was conquered by the Ottoman Empire?”

“Of course!”

“What are they doing?” Luke asked confused while placing the glasses on the table, near the plate with fish and chips that Elizabeth carried.

“Ann is quizzing Hamid,” Briar replied flatly.

“Why?” Elizabeth and Luke asked in unison.

“She doesn’t believe he knows the name of all the countries in the world and their capital cities and its Chief of State and whatever else she’s asking him now… My mind drifted to more relevant things a while ago.” Briar sipped the pint Luke placed in front of her. “Do you think I should keep my bangs?” she asked running her fingers through the black hair and stared at a strand captured by her index finger and thumb.

“I like it,” Luke said with a smile, and gulped the pint of pale ale.

“How long has this being going on?” Elizabeth asked, her attention focused on the next question posed by Annabelle.

“How long were you two gone?”

“About ten minutes?” Luke guessed and Elizabeth confirmed with a nod. “Ten minutes.”

“It feels longer… so much longer. My bones are old now…” Briar sighed.

“What are the rules?” Luke questioned while Hamid shared his knowledge about the languages spoken in Thailand.

“I think there are none. They’ll probably keep on going ‘till they run out of countries…”

“Tuvalu?”

“Funafuti.” He added with amusement, “I should have told you I lived in Australia for a while. None of those countries are unfamiliar to me.”

Annabelle narrowed her eyes and uttered, “Togo.”

One of Hamid’s fingers scratched his chin and the man took his time, a smirk curling the woman’s lips. “Lomé.”

“How does she know he’s not making things up?” asked Elizabeth.

“Because Ann knows this stuff too.”

“You’re kidding!”

Briar shook her head. “They’re both nerds.”

“I concede. You weren’t just boasting…”

Hamid smiled and offered his hand. “You were quite an opponent, Ms. Parsons.”

“Does this mean they’re friends now?” Elizabeth whispered to Briar, while the others shook hands.

“Possibly,” Briar pondered. “Or he’ll hire her to work for him at the UN.”

“I’ve told you I don’t work at the UN,” Hamid corrected her.

“I like imagining you at that giant room filled with people from all over the world… And you having the power to invite other people to join you there… it’s nice. Like a very cool club.”

Hamid grinned and gulped the coke in front of him. He casted a glance at Elizabeth, and his hand casually brushed hers over the table, when he returned the glass. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t thank me. You’re getting next round,” she teased, and her hand rested on his arm.

Hours went by without the group even noticing it. The buzz decreased and the pub was getting quieter by the minute. A few tables became vacant around them and Briar answered a message on her phone.

“My friend Kate just texted me about this DJ playing at The Roxy… How about hitting the club and dancing the night away?”

Hamid and Elizabeth shared a look, a wordless understanding and both said they’d rather go home, since clubbing wasn’t their scene.

“Not my scene either,” Luke told Elizabeth once they were exiting the pub, a hand resting on her shoulder once more. “Can I walk you home?”

The question took the woman by surprise, and she avoided meeting his stare, while words slipped from her brain.

“But you’re so close to your dorm…” she mumbled, “…you just need to cross the bridge here… or take the bus…”

“There are buses where you live, right?”

“…Sure, but… Hamid and I…” Her head swivelled searching for Hamid and confirmation to what she was about to say, and she was met by a distinct glint on his eyes. “We’re going to that same direction… so…”

Hamid acquiesced with an even larger smile, and she couldn’t ignore the disappointment in Luke’s face after hearing their words. Fidgeting with her coats’ buttons, she mumbled without meeting his gaze, “Thanks for offering, though. It was… very sweet.”

“Okay. ‘Night, Liz.” Smiling, the man pulled her to a quick hug.

Encircled by his strong arms, she stiffened and kept her hands curled into fists, that were pressed against her collar bone. Taken aback by his gesture, she only flashed a small smile when he released her. “Goodnight, Luke.”

Trying to conceal her reddened cheeks from their friends, she adjusted her scarf higher and bid farewell to Briar and Annabelle.

Keeping a safe distance, as he says, Hamid and Elizabeth strolled side by side, talking about the fun both had this evening. When they reached the street with the familiar Georgian mansions, Hamid’s eyes reached up to the top of the buildings and then higher.

“No clouds. We’ll have a sunny day tomorrow.”

Folding her arms to get warmer, the woman stole a glance at Hamid. The man contemplated the surprisingly clear sky peppered with the faint glow of a few stars. The only sound on the empty street was the tapping of their shoes on the pavement, and a siren resonating from afar.

“You didn’t have to come all this way…”

Halting, Hamid’s eyes widened with surprise darted to her face, and he considered her for a moment. “Are you still concerned with the paparazzi thing?”

“No,” she assured him. “We’ve talked about this, since there were no more pictures… we’re obviously boring people…”

“Speak for yourself,” he chuckled and stepped closer, standing a few feet away from her, gaze unwavering from her face. “I’m never boring.”

“You hang with me, dude… so, that makes you boring too. And if they follow us, they’ll tire of our boredom,” she teased.

A chuckle rumbled on his chest, and he looked at her. “Then, I don’t understand… You were the one who suggested we walked together…” he said, and even though not a word about Luke’s offer left his mouth, she recognized the same glint in his eyes and the cocky smile.

“I know… I-I mean…” she stuttered, “…you shouldn’t have to walk all this way and back…”

The tapping of shoes resumed, when he followed her lead.

“I can use a little exercise. Besides I enjoy your company,” he said softly, sliding his hands on the trousers pockets, protecting them from the breeze. “And I feel better knowing you got home safely.”

“Thank you.” She grinned and bumped her shoulder against his side.

When their gazes meet, she felt a dozen butterflies – maybe a hundred of them – fluttering on her stomach. His hand flew from his pocket and he raised his arm to put it around her. On his lips a wide enthralling grin. However, his arm retreated mid-air before reaching her shoulder and his hand returned to his pocket. An apologetic half-smile after he put some space between them once more.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. An unfamiliar feeling striking her. It was not as if they walked like that on a regular basis, and suddenly couldn’t anymore. On the contrary. Never had his arm being around her shoulder like it could’ve been, and somehow, she missed it. The strangest sensation. The knowledge they must be careful to not stir the interest of tabloids, either on him or her or both, didn’t easy it – not even a little. The request to avoid any displays of affection in public and be discreet came from her, but it didn’t prevent the unexpected bitter taste in her mouth, though.

She crossed her arms tighter around herself, they were so close to her home and Hamid did what she asked of him. To preserve her, and she should be thankful that he was such a considerate friend. Either paparazzi or Henrietta’s vicious tongue, she couldn’t pick which could be more damaging.

Yet, it never felt this wrong doing the right thing.

Soon they reached the front door, and his eyes scanned the imposing brick facade with numerous windows facing the street and he took a step back.

“Are you still going to study?”

“I don’t think so… What time is it?”

“A little past midnight.”

“Then definitely not.” She smirked and fidgeted with the keys on her hand, looking up at him. A warm smile on his lips and eyes sparkling. “Text me when you get home?”

“Sure.”

Just a gentle squeeze on her arm, bunching her green coat, and a soft goodnight slipping from both tongues and they parted with the promise to cycle in the morning, enjoying together another cool autumn day and the pleasure of the other’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. MI5 - Military Intelligence, Section 5, is the United Kingdom’s domestic counter-intelligence and security agency; British Security Service.


	15. Chapter Fourteen - Under a Different Light (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.  
* Non-English words translated on the notes in the end.  
* I want to thank @princess-geek for being my beta on this chapter and indulge my obsession with Hamid and this series 💚

In passing, the facades of already familiar buildings and glimpses of unknown faces. Elizabeth’s fingers shaped like piano chords danced on her thighs, playing an inaudible music; her heart, quite the opposite, had decided to replicate the same cadence of the percussion instruments of a samba school from the moment she got on her family’s car that Saturday morning.

Ever since she was a child and was taught about the importance of connexions required by her role, meeting new people became a distressful task for a timid girl like her. Even though she’s aware it’s not required of her to impress Hamid’s friends, years of her grandmother’s advices about forming bonds inundate her mind accompanied by recommendations on not speaking out of time or being impertinent. The training on carrying on light conversations and etiquette lessons should be enough to soothe her but weren’t. 

Her hand submerges into the large tote bag lying on the seat and she fishes the mobile and rereads their latest messages.

A frown replacing the wide smile, when those intrusive thoughts return.

The knowledge they were excited to meet her was terrifying. Why would they really? What have they heard about her? Both know she’s the daughter of the Earl of Edgewater, and according to Hamid they admire her father and his work, which is somewhat reassuring. But not entirely. Elizabeth is anything like him; she lacks his confidence and communicative skills.

Her fingers hover over the screen, and she considers texting Hamid an excuse and going back home; instead, she puts the mobile down on her lap.

“Don’t freak out,” she mutters under her breath.

The car takes a turn, slowly coming to a stop, and the driver announces the arrival at her destination. A quick look outside and there was no sign of Hamid. Peeking at her mobile, she realizes she’s ten minutes too early and regrets taking the car.

A request is uttered politely, and the driver restarts the engine to go around the block once more. This time, the man is instructed to park across the street.

Raising her hand, she curls a lock of hair around her fingers absentmindedly. Reminiscences of the time she walked around this neighbourhood with Hamid on their way to the Royal Opera taking turns with annoying thoughts about causing a lasting bad impression on his friends, and random facts she’s learned about them to use in small talks. _They’re lawyers, Yusuf likes football, Bartholomew enjoys dancing… Or was it the other way around? _She bites on a cuticle, then another one.

_Why am I so anxious to meet them anyway? _

Hamid already likes her company and she’s met friends of friends before. In fact, back in Rio, Renata used to introduce her to acquaintances often. That’s how she got to know people and befriend a few amongst them. It’s not that big deal.

_I__t’s just a courtesy, _she thinks. Hamid was introduced to her friends, now it’s her turn. But her friends loved him. Obviously. Even Luke’s earlier resistance seems to have subsided. Last night at the pub, the guys bonded over their enthusiasm about ‘80s music and movies, and the fact the diplomat went to high school in the United States.

Thanking the driver, she steps out and brushes her palms against her skirt.

_Why are my hands so freaking cold and sweaty?_

The breeze blew her long curly hair and the hem of her knee-length dress when she crossed the street and carried the smell of freshly baked bread to her nose. Brushing past a few pedestrians, Elizabeth isn’t met by any familiar face on the pavement.

A pinging sound and the mobile is scooped from the bag. A message from Hamid informs they were already seated.

Peeking through one of the large windows, she recognized the three men at a booth near the counter. The sight made her smile, and the urge to flee decline. Sometimes she wonders how Hamid acts when he’s around people other than her, and now the perfect opportunity presented itself.

Sporting a stripped black and white long-sleeved t-shirt, instead of a suit, Hamid looked handsome as always. With an elbow propped on the back of the seat, a relaxed expression and a crinkly-eye smile, he paid undivided attention to his friends, whom she recognized from the pictures at his _Pictagram_.

The contrast between them was remarkable and not limited to their features. One with olive skin and tidy black hair and beard, a serene expression and measured movements; while the other was the opposite, cheeks rounded with smiles, mouth enthusiastically moving with chatter, and brown hair fashionably messed framing the fair skin of a clean-shaved face.

After a moment, as if feeling being observed, the diplomat’s face turned, and his eyes found her. Slowly, his smile spreads. Trying to conceal the embarrassment of being caught spying, she waved at him, and tucked some curls behind her ear.

Pointing at the door, the man leaped to his feet and rushed to meet her there.

She’s greeted by the freshness of his aftershave hanging in the air and the warmth of his cheek touching hers for an air kiss. A hand restiing on her arm, he whispers, “I didn’t believe it possible, but you look even more beautiful under the fall’s morning light.”

His words and the closeness of his mouth to her ear caused the usual reaction, and by his satisfied grin, Elizabeth suspects it met his intention.

“Flatterer,” she voiced lowering her gaze, and praying the intense heat on her cheeks wouldn’t consume her face.

“I only speak the truth,” he claimed with a grin and escorted her to the table, a hand resting on her back that elicited goose bumps on her skin and a mix of contradictory emotions – the majority not from the friendly type.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” she said softly, casting a glance at his friends, who observed them.

“You’re right on time. We just got here a bit earlier to get a good table.”

Nearing the table, Hamid introduced his new favourite London resident to his dearest ones, and his endearing words earned delighted responses from the couple, and a sweet smile from the woman.

Standing up, Yusuf Konevi offered his hand for a shake, and she realized how short she was between him and Hamid. Next, it was his boyfriend’s turn.

“Call me Bart,” he said and took both her hands in his, wrapping them gently with a warmness comparable to his salute.

Hamid motioned for Elizabeth to sit and took the place beside her. His knee joining hers, when he scooted closer and held the menu for them to examine together. In low voices, they deliberated about the best options to order, while the other two shared indiscreet knowing grins watching them.

“You’re sharing?” Bartholomew asked beaming and Hamid confirmed, explaining how this gives them the opportunity to taste more dishes. “That’s adorable! And clever,” the man inferred with amusement, his chin resting on his palm and eyes set on the couple.

“If we don’t do this,” Hamid said smiling slyly, “she keeps regretting what she picks and stealing food from my plate.”

“Like I’m the only one who does that, fry stealer…” she muttered under her breath and failed to prevent her lips from curling in a small smile.

“Everyone steals fries,” he said glancing at her and grinning.

Winning a battle against her nervousness, Elizabeth detached her eyes from the menu. A noticeable blush on her cheeks, when she asked the men if they were sharing too, an attempt to make conversation.

“Oh, no!” Bartholomew snickered and, without catching his breath, continued, “Every other day I do whatever is necessary to keep this amazing figure: I exercise, eat healthy and avoid all Yusuf can’t eat. – Which I recommend everyone to try. Totally cleanses your body! – However, on Saturdays I will eat sugar and bacon and sausage and even a whole pig if they fit it into my plate.”

The man let out an infectious laughter, and his boyfriend said softly, patting his hand over the table, “He’s very enthusiastic about porky.”

“Not exclusively. I’ll have a bite of everything. Even your food if you’re slow-eaters. Be warned.”

Elizabeth grinned and her gaze shifted to Hamid speaking at the waiter.

“Before you got here, we were just telling Hamid we’re leaving for St. Ives tomorrow,” Bartholomew said, catching her attention.

“Five quiet days by the sea away from London and work,” Yusuf added grinning.

“Sounds wonderful,” she said.

“St. Ives is so perfect! It was the destination of our first trip together…” Bartholomew casted an adoring glance at his boyfriend before leaning over the table. Using a hand to cover his mouth, he confided Elizabeth how adorable it was that such a confident man was so shy to invite him on this trip last year. Then, the same hand moved to caress the man’s bearded face and was captured for a gentle and quick kiss. A tenderness that warmed Elizabeth’s heart.

Smiling to herself, she lowered her gaze, diverting her attention to the meal placed in front of her. With a wistful tone, she confided, “I love the sea.”

A glass with orange juice was taken to her lips. Sipping the drink and stealing sideway glances at Hamid, she tried to chase away the thoughts about someday being able to demonstrate affection in public without restraint, indifferent to paparazzi or other people’s opinions.

Yusuf’s dark eyes studied her, and he asked if she’s been to that coast of the island, which she replied in the negative. Taking a moment of consideration, she shared with her companions how the sea is the one thing she misses the most while being in London. By Hamid’s reaction and the way his hand reached for hers resting on her knee, her words must have sounded sadder than intended. The gentle squeeze was comforting, as much as the touch of his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

“Hamid, you should take Elizabeth there sometime! You’ll adore it! I’ll text you the directions right now,” Bartholomew suggested, pulling his mobile from the pocket. “They always leave little treats for the guests. It’s lovely!”

The man proceeded and described the B&B’s romantic atmosphere and perfect bed while his fingers tapped on the screen. Hamid cleared his throat in an unsuccessful attempt to draw his attention. For a second, Elizabeth shared a wide-eyed look with Yusuf, the man’s serene demeanour replaced by a gobsmacked expression, and the woman chocked with the juice. The glass was put down on the table and a napkin was hastily taken to her lips, covering a persistent cough.

“Oh, dear, are you alright?” Bartholomew asked and she nodded using the napkin to cover her mouth, while Hamid’s hand rubbed her back, while he stared at Yusuf.

A wordless conversation between Hamid’s and Yusuf’s eyes and brows, prompted the latter to gently squeeze his boyfriend’s arm. The knowing look he casted caused him to stop midsentence while praising the perfect-sized tub. Bartholomew’s lips rounded when realization dawned, and he put his mobile down. His skin reddened from the neck up to his cheeks, mirroring the same colour that had tinted Elizabeth’s face, and he drew in a deep breath. Failing to simulate a genuine smile, he tried to remedy the situation.

“…I mean… I’m not assuming that… you… You can have separated rooms. Obviously! And enjoy the nature and the many dull non-romantic options, of course. It’s not like they forbid singles there!”

A soundless sorry was mouthed to Hamid, which Elizabeth pretended not seeing while drinking the water Yusuf poured for her. Avoiding the men’s gazes, her eyes fixed on the plate and her mind raced.

_What does he mean? Why would he assume I’m another one of Hamid’s “friends”? Is it a common occurrence for him to bring his ladies friends in those encounters? _

For a moment, she wished to ask directly those and every other question that inundated her brain, but shyness and politesse prevented her from doing so.

Bartholomew devoured his ham sandwich, breadcrumbs peppering his blue shirt. Yusuf put his fork down, and his smooth voice broke the awkward silence. “What are you doing with that cat of yours?”

“Oh! Is the ballerina taking care of it?” Bartholomew asked.

“I thought about asking her… but I’ve decided to leave her again at the vet. Leia will hate every minute and me afterwards, but…” he trailed off and took a loaf of bread to his mouth and offered another piece to Elizabeth.

“Is it wise to upset it?” Yusuf asked.

“You’re the only friends I trust her with…” he shrugged. “And it’s just for a few days…”

Elizabeth considered his words for a moment, while chewing on the bread. Whilst the men’s mouths were busy with their food, she took the opportunity to offer, “I can watch her.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, Liz. It’s too much trouble…”

“I’m offering, Hamid,” she insisted.

For a while, this went back and forth, Hamid reiterating it’d be too much to ask her and the cat stayed at the vet before; Elizabeth insisting she loves cats and has done it for a friend.

“Do you need professional assistance to settle this matter?” Yusuf mocked, “I can offer my services with a special friend’s discount.”

“See. We’re boring your friends,” Elizabeth said softly, a hand resting on his arm. “Just say yes. You know I won’t stop until you do.”

“You’ll regret it,” he chuckled, his fingertips gently caressing her hand, and she flashed a victorious beam. They agreed on going to his flat afterwards to discuss the details, and the subject was dropped for the moment.

The arrangement brought a contented grin to Bartholomew’s face. “What a perfect solution.”

While the plates and cups were getting emptied by the minute, the conversations became livelier, going from one topic to another, until the subject changed to the admiration for Elizabeth’s father. Bartholomew praised the rareness of the Earl’s public spiritedness on days like these, and Yusuf remarked the importance of his commitment to ensure the observance of human rights. 

“How did you meet my father?”

“I was lucky to be introduced to him at one of my partner’s parties, and we met in quite a few occasions over the years.”

“I met him last year, at the same party we both met.” Yusuf gazed at Bartholomew, and continued, “And I was lucky enough he noticed me despite your father being there…” An unrestrained chuckle followed his statement, crinkling his brown eyes.

“How could I not notice you?” the other asked looking him in the eye. “The first thing I asked Ernest when you arrived was who the tall handsome man was!”

“Ernest?” Elizabeth echoed, and Bartholomew’s gaze fell upon her.

“Ernest Sinclaire. You certainly know him.”

One of the polite smiles of her repertoire curled her closed lips, while she nodded. _Breathe in, don’t be rude._ “My father is very fond of him.”

“So am I. We’ve been best friends since our time at King’s. Have you two met? I don’t think he ever mentioned you, but to be honest, Ernest keeps mostly to himself… Even Turing¹ would have a hard time decoding that man…” he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Barely,” she trailed off and a fork with a piece of pastry was taken to her mouth.

Hamid observed her with amusement, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your face cannot hide any emotion, can it?” Hamid whispered back, while Bartholomew focused on feeding a piece of cake to Yusuf. “You should never play poker – Actually, we should play poker. Only the two of us…” His fingers motioned between them, and her eyebrows raised in a nonverbal interrogation. “I could use the money to buy a new phone…” He winked.

“I’m actually good at poker,” she countered.

Inching closer, he rested his elbow on the back of their seat and susurrated on her ear, “I’ve observed you, and how your eyes give everything away. You can’t be any good at bluffing…”

“Wanna bet?” she defied, lifting her chin and locking eyes with him. “I don’t need money for a new phone, but… I’ll enjoy washing that smug grin off your face.” Her index finger raised and moved in circles near his mouth.

“Feisty!” he chuckled and captured her finger, holding it close to his chest. “I like that side of yours, _güzel_².”

The last word came from his tongue sweeter than the pastry they were sharing, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Once more, being called beautiful in Turkish felt special as if the word carried a different and more profound meaning than the English one; or maybe it just felt that way because it wasn’t overused and she never heard him using with anyone else. Either way, she wouldn’t mind hearing it often.

The endearing term earned him an ear-to-ear grin that bared her straight teeth – this genuine smile was a frequent occurrence around him –, and the words she was about to say next slipped from her mind, enraptured as she was by the glint in his eyes.

Instead of the regular kind, it seems the man has black holes hidden in the orbit of his eyes, and she cannot escape them. They draw Elizabeth and the whole world in as well, until there’s only him. The pull so strong makes her wonder if she’ll ever reach a place of no return, when resisting is futile.

Suddenly, his gaze lowered to her lips, and his hand raised to her face and Elizabeth flinched.

“You got something…” Hamid’s tone was as gentle as the touch of the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “A piece of crust.”

A breathed thank you and her own fingers hastily brushed her lips, like she needed to erase the unsaid words etched there before he could decipher them.

After being lost in his intense stare for an unreasonable long time, which couldn’t be deemed as a regular thing friends do, she slowly withdrew her hand from his and put some distance between them.

Picking the cup from the table, Elizabeth sipped the remaining of the coffee, and it was impossible to ignore the way the other two looked at them and her cheeks became hotter than the dark liquid swirling down her throat.

*****

Once the group crossed the threshold, despite the breeze that greeted them, it was unmistakable the temperature had risen in the hour and a half they spent in the brasserie. 

“It’s such a beautiful day!” Elizabeth said smiling at Hamid, who nodded and slowly withdrew his hand from her back when they reached the pavement.

Contemplating the cloudless sky, Bartholomew suggested a stroll at the park.

“It’s a lovely idea, but Yusuf and I have a subject to discuss and we’re going to my –”

“No, no, no,” Bartholomew cut in, his head jerking back in Hamid’s direction. “We’re all going to the park together, so I can enjoy Elizabeth’s company a little longer and you can discuss whatever it is in front of us.”

Yusuf and Hamid shared a look and acquiesced, and the first removed his arm from his boyfriend’s shoulder and they walked ahead. Bartholomew and Elizabeth following closely.

Soon the four were surrounded by the mesmerising _dégradé_ of the foliage, ranking from deep brown to yellow.

A sudden gust of wind plucked the leaves from the towering trees and they fell waltzing in the breeze before reaching the ground to cover it with a crunching blanket.

Accelerating their march and gaining a small distance, Yusuf and Hamid spoke in hushed tones. Bartholomew observed them, clearly trying to overhear their conversation.

“Did they switch to Turkish?” asked Elizabeth.

“They certainly did,” Bartholomew raised his voice so the other two could hear him too, “even though they know it’s extremely rude to speak a language that I only know twenty words. And most of them are names of dishes and equivalents to the F-word.” 

She giggled, and the men smiled looking back over their shoulders.

“You had two dashing teachers offering you their services,” Hamid stated beaming, “yet you refused both.”

“Not all of us have been blessed with your linguistics skills, my dear friend. I can barely speak the French I’ve studied for years at school.”

“Luckily you have numerous other skills, my love,” Yusuf spoke softly, his adoring gaze directed at the man behind him.

“Ugh! Get a room!” Hamid sighed exaggeratedly, making a face to Bartholomew.

“Don’t be gross, Hamid!” Bartholomew scolded. “And stop being rude to me and your friend! You should switch back to English.”

“I know you just want to eavesdrop,” Hamid replied winking.

Bartholomew’s jaw dropped as he feigned outrage, in response Hamid let out a wholehearted laugh. Narrowing his eyes, the other uttered the retaliation, “Maybe I should tell Elizabeth all your misdeeds, mister.”

“Bart, you wouldn’t…”

“I would and I will…” he threatened his friend, however, at the same time, he discreetly shook his head to her indicating he was bluffing.

Hamid turned around, his joined hands in a contrite gesture offered in exchange for peace. Bartholomew mockingly shook his head, and the other flashed one of his bright winning grins.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth observed their exchange with amusement, around his friends, Hamid seemed happier and carefree. Despite her initial nervousness and a few bumps on the road, she should admit they made her feel welcomed. Bartholomew’s company pleased her – even though Hamid seemed worried he would annoy her or something. The man was funny and friendly, and did most of the talking, which worked perfectly for her.

“They’re talking about the special surprise for our anniversary. I’m certain.”

“A surprise?” Elizabeth echoed.

Bartholomew whispered, “I still don’t know what it is. But they’ve been very secretive for two weeks now…”

The sound of strident laughter and footsteps crunching leaves announced an incoming group of children who sprinted past them towards the trees. Their presence disturbed a group of magpies, causing them to fly away. 

Looking at the black and white flock, Elizabeth felt the verses of the nursery rhyme learnt from her grandmother sitting on her tongue and ready to fly as well, but she pursed her lips. Bartholomew glanced at her and recited the first verse pointing at the birds, “One for sorrow…”

Smiling, she joined, “Two for joy.” 

They repeated the next verses in a sing-song voice that drew the others attention. Hamid’s face darted back first, eyebrows raised and a grin parting his lips. Yusuf halted and watched them delighted.

“…Nine for a kiss, ten for a bird, you must not miss!” Elizabeth and Bartholomew said the last verses in unison.

“There’s not enough verses,” the man snorted.

Elizabeth’s eyes met Hamid’s, which were narrowed from laughter, and she shrugged and didn’t fight the liberating snicker that bubbled.

“Nothing to see here, gentlemen,” Bartholomew waved, failing to hold in a fit of giggles. “Just a British thing. You can carry on with your secretive Turkish affairs.”

The men complied and resumed walking, though from time to time, they’d glance at Bartholomew and Elizabeth over their shoulders.

“Those two are extraordinary men,” Bartholomew stated.

Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised at the unexpected words and the sudden change in his tone.

“By the look on your face, you think my judgement is a little biased.”

“Not at all,” she assured.

“It’s a shame most people don’t see them as I believe we both do,” he said with a serious expression, and linked his arm with hers. Tipping his head, indicating Hamid, Bartholomew whispered, “He’s a darling, isn’t he?”

Elizabeth understood it was a rhetorical question, once he continued without waiting for any answer.

“Hamid’s like a ray of sunshine. I’ve known him for almost a year, and he’s such a good friend. Yusuf considers him a younger brother.”

“Hamid speaks very fondly about him too”, she paused, and corrected herself, “Both of you, actually.”

“He deserves to be cherished,” he said, casting a glance at her, and she remained quiet, unsure what to say. The man probably wasn’t expecting her to say anything and just added with a joyful smile, “I’m happy we’ve met you and you live up to all we’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?”

“Only nice things. Rest assured, darling,” he replied patting her arm.

Yusuf’s words caused Hamid’s head to bow, a loud laugh escaping his mouth, and his hand went to his face.

“They’re so silly together,” Bartholomew shook his head, a slow and affectionate smile curling his lips. After a brief pause, he spoke again, “It was really unexpected when he invited you. He never introduces us to his friends.”

“Really? Not even Natasha?”

“Natasha?” Bartholomew’s face whipped to look at her, and his eyebrows raised. “The ballerina? We’ve seen her twice after her performances, but he never brought her to any of our _rendezvous_…” He paused, considering her expression. “Why you seem surprised, Elizabeth?”

“I… I don’t know… He’s such… an extroverted… And knows so many people…” she mumbled, while memories of the numerous acquaintances he greets whenever they went out together flashed on her mind.

“He does know a lot of people… That’s for sure. And Hamid can talk to someone for five minutes and the person will believe he’s his best friend, which is an extraordinary gift considering his line of work. But when it comes to friendship – and I mean real friendship, the one that involves bonding, getting attached and all of that – he’s much more reserved than one would assume and keeps a very small and select group of friends…”

Elizabeth’s eyes focused on the man taking confident steps ahead of them, and at last, something hit her: apart from his co-workers, Elizabeth must be the person Hamid spends more time with. She should’ve realised it before, since she’s familiar with Hamid’s busy schedule – work, evening classes, writing his dissertation, going to the gym, taking care of his flat and running ordinary errands. Thinking about it, just this week they had lunch together three days in a row, he spent two evenings at her father’s house studying at the library in her company, and last night they went to the pub with her friends. When would he hang with other people?

“Enough about him,” Bartholomew’s voice ringed, and interrupted her considerations. “Tell me more about you. You study Law at King’s.” She nodded, and he asked, “How are you enjoying it?”

“I’m enjoying most of the classes. I made a few friends…” _And antagonists, who keep trying to undermine my confidence and turn other students against me. _This information, however, she kept to herself. It took many days and Hamid’s persuasion skills for her to open up about her issues with Felicity and Donna.

“Are you having classes with the infamous Professor Richards?”

She confirmed, and looked away, considering what she should say about him. “I still don’t know what to think about Richards –”

“You’re allowed to think the worst!”

“He’s not the nicest person –”

“Ugh! Just the opposite!”

“But he’s one of the heads of the department, and he’s part of the commission that’ll analyse the submissions to this European Law program I’m willing to join… So it’s important to make a good impression.”

“It always is, darling. And that’s why he feels entitled to be such a wanker.”

“We were requested to turn this paper on Monday… And I tried my best to make an extensive research in such a short time, but I’m really insecure…”

“First of all, be confident. He only respects the bold ones. Regarding the paper, throw in some quotations from his books, never in any circumstance question any of his assertions and you’ll do fine. These advices work for his classes too.”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. “I hope you’ll succeed. Richards gave me such a hard time when I was his student…”

“Why?”

“I’m not really certain,” the man shrugged. “Maybe because I wasn’t a pretty girl. Maybe he considered me weak. Maybe he had a problem with my sexuality. Maybe he’s just a big bully and experiences a sadistic pleasure torturing his students… Who knows?”

“Sorry about that…” she said, gently squeezing his hand, and he thanked her. “What did you do?”

“Studied harder and finished his course to never ever have to deal with all that crap again… It certainly helped Ernest was my friend. He was top of the class and Richards’ favourite pupil.”

_Of course he was,_ she thought, and bit her tongue. 

Bartholomew suddenly stopped talking and sighed, “And to imagine they can’t even be in the same room nowadays!”

“Why?” she gasped, “What happened?”

“That’s a very long and private story which isn’t mine to tell.” Smiling, the man suggested, “I think it’s time we go extract vital information about my present from those fine gentlemen over there. Come on!”

Letting go of her arm, he sprinted and linked his arm with his boyfriend, and their giggles prompted Hamid to look over his shoulder. As Elizabeth inched closer, his smile grew wider.

The group parted in front of the tube station with the promise Elizabeth would join them again soon.

“By the constant look of horror in your face, I feel there’s a lot I have to apologise for,” Hamid said beaming, as they walked together towards his flat. “I’ll make up an excuse to bail you out from the dinner at their place. Don’t worry.”

“Why?”

“Do you want to go?” His eyebrows and voice raised.

“I don’t know. Maybe… They’re nice.” Elizabeth shrugged and didn’t fight the smile that curled her lips and was probably as wide as his. “What’s the surprise, Hamid?”

“Surprise?”

“For Bart?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul,” she winked.

“_Aman tanrım3!_” Hamid chuckled, staring at her. “Did he enroll you to investigate?”

“No! I’m just curious.”

Hamid slowly shook his head, an insistent smile on his lips.

*****

Crossing Oxford Street together, Hamid and Elizabeth led her into a narrow street with a line of trees between two modern buildings. Her gaze moved upwards, to the top of the construction.

Smiling, Hamid unlocked the glass door and touched her elbow to usher her inside. They marched straight to the lift, and once the doors closed, he glanced at Elizabeth and his expression shifted to an unusual serious one.

“Do you really want to do this?”

“Sure”, she replied, facing him. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. It’s just… I can leave Leia at the vet.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, Liz.”

Resting a hand on his arm, she said smiling, “Then it’s settled: I’ll be a cat-sitter for the next days. I live close and love cats! My friend Renata has a Siamese and I had so much fun playing with him.”

“About that…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might have forgotten to mention Leia is a bit antisocial…”

“Really? What should I expect: frighten kitty hidden in the closet or feral cat sneaking up on me and tearing me apart?”

“…Probably something in between.”

“Hopefully less tearing apart.” She giggled, and Hamid frowned and looked away. “You’re kidding?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Dude, that’s not very reassuring…”

With a swoosh the lift’s door opened to a bright hallway.

“This way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Turing, Alan (1912-1954) - British mathematician and logician, Nazi code-breaker during World War II.  
2\. Güzel - Turkish word that means beautiful, can be used as a term of endearment.  
3\. Aman tanrım! - Turkish interjection which could be translated as “Oh, god!” or “Geez!”


	16. Chapter Fourteen - Under a Different Light (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU  
* English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.  
* Non-English words translated on the notes in the end.  
* I want to thank @princess-geek for being my beta on this chapter and constantly indulge my obsession with Hamid and this series 💚

With a swoosh the lift’s door opened to a long and bright corridor, and Hamid indicated the way to his flat.

“How’s this cat of yours, really?”

“It’s hard to describe,” he chuckled, fumbling with his keys. “Leia’s very peculiar.”

Following him closely, she shook her head. “You’re having too much fun with it, aren’t you?” A mischievous smile that wrinkled the bridge of his nose was the only reply.

Unlocking the door, Hamid leaned against the doorframe and removed the sneakers to carefully place them on the lowest shelf of the entrance closet; Elizabeth observed him and did the same with her boots. The man offered her a pair of grey slippers too large for her feet and grinned at the sight and her remark about clown feet.

With a flourish he motioned for her to walk past him and go to the living room. Peeking over her shoulder, she watched him hanging his jacket and bending to take off his socks, whilst his eyes were focused on her.

The floor to ceiling windows let the sunlight flood the room with a soft late morning light.

_Are we in the right place?_

The living room was spacious and scarcely furnished: a small round marble table with two white chairs, a black leather sectional, a rectangular black coffee table and black wooden panels on the wall with an enormous television hanging. Besides the sofa, a modern chrome floor lamp; hanging on the wall opposite to the TV, two modern abstract paintings with geometric shapes in primary colours that reminded her of Mondrian’s style. Narrowing her eyes, she considered the oddity of this particular choice, since Hamid prefers figurative art. Turning around, she realized there were no books visible nor photographs, no rugs, throw pillows nor anything personal.

Her tote bag was placed over the empty surface of the coffee table, and the sound of his bare feet steps neared her.

“What do you think?”

“Is this really your apartment?” Her question ringed aloud and she realised how ill-mannered it sounded.

“You sound surprised...”

Surprise described her reaction perfectly. An architecture magazine could classify the space as minimalist, Elizabeth, on the other hand, if it wasn’t impolite, would call it colourless and monotonous, just the opposite of its resident man.

“I… Sorry. It's just...” she mumbled, and tried to remedy the situation, “...different from what I've pictured.”

“So you thought about my place?” asked Hamid with a smug smile, and she avoided his stare. Folding her arms, she slowly crossed the distance to the windows. “I’m curious now.” The man approached her, and asked softly, “How did you picture it?”

“Hmm… I imagined it would be... How can I say it?” she stuttered.

Gazing at the park outside, she tried to collect her thoughts. Which word wouldn’t be rude?

“Perhaps cozier?”

“Cozier?” he echoed.

“With rugs and a little more… hmm... stuff. Maybe souvenirs from your travels…”

His head bobbed while she spoke, and his arms linked at his back. Stealing sideways glance at her, he stated, “You expected it to be more exotic.”

“No!” Her hair whipped his shoulder, when her face jerked in his direction. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Admit it!” He nudged her side. “I told you the Embassy rented the apartment and you assumed there'd be Persian rugs everywhere and big cushions and a _narghile_. Just admit it,” he teased, and his wide smile returned.

“Of course not!” she playfully smacked his arm. “It's just… too black and white!”

“Liz, it’s supposed to be a home, not the set for Aladdin,” he chuckled, and brushed her arm, before walking away, making kitty-calling noises.

“It just doesn’t seem like _you_ live here. Where are the books, Hamid? You're a bookworm!”

“Most of my books is digital.” Following him with her gaze, she watched Hamid disappear in the corridor.

“What about other stuff?” Elizabeth asked, raising her voice a little.

“Liz, I don't own many things...” His voice resounded from another room. “And the furniture was already here when I moved in.”

Elizabeth tracked the sound and peeked at the kitchen. “But you’ve been living here for at least a year and a half, right?”

“Yes… But I don’t spend that much time in here... You know that.”

“I guess we’re just different…” she said inspecting her fingernails and musing. “It’s been like a month since I’ve moved to my father’s house and you should see my bedroom...”

His head popped from the kitchen, a grin narrowing his eyes.

“Is that an invitation?”

She avoided his gaze, and stuttered the answer, “I… I wouldn't mind showing it to you...”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for the formal invitation then.”

He walked past her, and in the distance, doors opened and closed repeatedly. Then again, Hamid’s voice sounded behind her, “I’ve lived in more places than I can count...” He brushed past her into the living room and kneelled, looking underneath the couch, and continued speaking, “And I prefer photos to other kinds of souvenirs, anyways. The little I bring from my travels I keep at my parents' house at Istanbul. It’s stressful moving a lot of things around…”

“But what about plants?”

“I have a cat.”

“So?”

“I think that’s self-explanatory,” he chuckled and returned to the kitchen.

This time she followed him into the black and white room filled with modern silvery appliances. Hamid grabbed a clear jar from the upper cabinet.

“That’s where I keep Leia's food. There’s more on the top shelf if necessary. She’ll always ask for more, but you should only let her have four of these portions a day,” he explained pointing to a measuring cup. Next, he shook the recipient for a while, and remained quiet.

Elizabeth leaned back against the counter and also looked expectantly at the door. Sighing, he put the pot back and scooted closer, mimicking her posture.

“Where is she? She’s always at the door when I come home.”

“Okay, first, that’s incredibly cute, Hamid, and I demand visual records. Second, she might’ve heard me and is hiding...”

“You’re probably right... Maybe I’ll just tell you what you’ve got to do and perhaps she’ll just show up...”

She agreed and he resumed his explanations showing how to operate the water fountain. When he finished, she inched closer and reached for his arm.

“Sorry if I sounded rude before…”

“You didn’t...”

“I wasn't exotifying you... I just expected something different… and matching your personality. I’m not criticising your place… I like it. It’s very... neat. And there’s a lot of... light. Which is extremely... good.”

“Wow! Apparently, you’re as bad in giving compliments as in receiving them...” he chuckled and bumped against her.

“I’m trying my best to be nice, dude!” She bumped her shoulder back against him.

“I know. But you don’t have to...” He placed a quick kiss on the top of her head and moved away. “Let me show you where I keep the litterbox.”

“Okay,” she followed him muttering under her breath, “I mean this place is nice, but not as full of life as you are...”

His face swivelled, and she was met by a peculiar glint on his eyes. Slowly, an ear-to-ear grin appeared on his lips. Raising his index finger, he said, “I own one rug.”

“You do?”

“Let's go to my bedroom and I’ll show you.”

“_Quê?_”

Elizabeth froze in place and stared with wide eyes, mouth hanging open.

_Who even says something like that? Does he assume since I came here, he'll bed me? Oh, my god! The nerve! How dare he think – _

“Why are you looking at me like that?” his question interrupted the inner dialogue going on her mind.

Elizabeth pressed her lips in a thin line, while regretting coming to his flat. The aggrieved expression with brows knitted together and the silence were enough for him to draw a conclusion, and Hamid raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh! Elizabeth, I have a suspicion of what’s going on inside that beautiful and strange mind of yours.” Inching closer, he cautiously cupped her face, his hands soft as his tone and warm as the smile playing on his lips. Tilting her face up so she could look at him, he continued, “But that’s not what I meant. I'm talking about an actual rug that happens to be in my room... Nothing else. I promise.”

“Okay,” she breathed the word without looking him in the eye, knowing he knew her cheeks were burning.

“If it makes you uncomfortable...”

Her head tilted from side to side, and his hands slipped to her shoulder, arms and finally rested at his sides.

“I want to see this rug,” she assured. “Does it have a story?”

“No story.”

“Are you sure?”

“My mother bought it the first time she visited, so I wouldn’t step on the cold floor. And it’s blue,” he said and offered his hand, which she gladly accepted.

In his slippers, she trailed behind him and they walked past a narrow corridor, crossing a door. On the right, a wall covered with framed black and white photographs in different sizes caught her eyes and she stopped to admire them, releasing his hand. Peeking over his shoulder, he smiled.

Out of sight in this private area, all with the same type of frame and meticulously disposed with regular spaces between them were numerous pictures: childhood ones, with little Hamid surrounded by family next to others taken during his many travels. In one of them Hamid was smiling with Yusuf Konevi, both sporting beards. At the left, a large photograph caught her attention and she leaned forward: Hamid wasn’t in this portrait that captured a group around a table prepared for a lavish meal, the men had full beards, most of the women hairs covered with veils and a few children sat in front of the table.

Taking a step forward, with a wistful smile he explained that he took the picture at his grandparents’ home during _Eid_, five years ago. Then his index finger pointed to a man and a woman, both tall, her hair covered with a light scarf, standing together and smiling at the camera. “Those are my parents.”

She leaned forward to study the image, “Your mother is beautiful!”

“As you can see, she bestowed me her good-looks.”

“Risking bursting your already overly inflated ego… You do look a lot like her.”

He chuckled and pointed at each smiling face on the portrait reciting their names, first his five sisters, two nephews and one niece, followed by his grandparents, and then his uncles and aunts and his eight cousins.

“You have a large family.” Her words were filled with wistful. While he pointed out how much larger it was, enumerating the absent members, she couldn’t help it but to feel a little envious anytime her friend lets slip details from his noisy, fun and immense family.

“I’ll check if Leia's under the bed.”

When her glance moved from the wall to look at him, she finally saw the bedroom. Her eyes wandered around and her lips curled into the widest smile possible. As tidy as the rest of his apartment, but unlike the living room, this room was full of life. An encounter of tradition and modernity, and as elegant as Hamid.

The large rug in shades of blue and fawn in an intricate pattern in the Persian style covered most of the floor. The same soothing colour palette replicated in the bedsheets and pillowcases. Instead of modern geometric paintings, the wall above the beige leather headboard of the queen-sized bed exhibited a large panoramic photograph of the Istanbul skyline with a dramatic sunset sky. The silhouette of Hagia Sophia unmistakeable in the cityscape.

“Wow! Now this is exactly what I was expecting! It’s beautiful and so full of life! Look, there’s the books!” she said cheerfully, pointing to his nightstand. “And you have a beautiful panorama of Istanbul too.”

With an amused expression, Hamid teased, “So you are capable of giving compliments?”

“When I find something so perfect like this, yes.”

“Perfect, you say?” he fought a snicker before bowing exaggeratedly with a flourish. “I'm glad my modest chambers suits your high standards and earned those enthusiastic compliments, my lady.”

“The compliments are well deserved, sir.” She curtsied low, like she learned when she was a child.

With an unabashed smile, he ducked beside the bed. Then, raising his head, he whispered, “She’s here.”

“Good. For a moment I thought you had an imaginary cat…” she whispered back, and he let out a snicker.

While he spoke softly in Turkish with the cat, she wandered taking everything in. Standing by his nightstand, she read the titles on the book covers and gazed at a framed picture. This one portrayed Hamid in a black and grey surfer’s suit sitting on a board, legs hanging at each side and the sun reflecting at the crystal-clear waters, a dark stubble covering his face, longer messy damp hair falling to his forehead, but the same sparkling eyes looking straight at the camera and white teeth bared in a grin.

After a few “psst psst psst” and other kitty-calling noises, the cat finally left its hiding spot under the bed.

In all its glory, Princess Leia stretched first her frontal legs raising her back and tail, then she arched like the omega Greek letter, and finally stretched each of her back legs. When she finished the ritual, its light ginger fox-like tail lifted in a question-mark shape matching the curiosity of her gaze. The green eyes scanned the perimeter and she wiggled her way towards Elizabeth. Little pink nose sniffing the air around the woman, who observed her with a smile. Next thing she knew, the cat brushed its whole body against her legs leaving behind a trail of white fluff fur on the black tights.

Hamid stared in disbelief.

“That never happened before!” he said, at last, mouth ajar.

“What?”

“She just walked towards you... As if she welcomes you… Leia is not the friendly type.”

“Do you think she likes me?” asked Elizabeth with a childlike smile on her lips.

“It seems so...”

Elizabeth ducked and brushed her hand against the cat’s head and under its chin, drawing purring sounds.

“She never let Konevi pet her. Or Bart. Wow!” Hamid shook his head chuckling.

“Aw! She chose me!”

“So it seems.”

“I’m the cat whisperer!”

Smirking, he said, “Let’s not get carried away...”

“You’re so fluffy!” Elizabeth spoke softly, as her hands caressed the cat’s long fur coat. “We’re gonna have so much fun while your _daddy _is out of town!”

“I’m not a cat’s daddy.” He shook his head, smirking. “That’s too weird… We’re roommates.”

Rising to her feet, Elizabeth saw the cat swaggering its way out of the room with her tail undulating with each step.

“Maybe I’m not the cat whisperer after all,” she pouted.

“You had a promising start.”

The woman giggled and brushed her hands on her dress.

“You can wash your hands there, if you like,” he said pointing to a door behind her.

She thanked him and went inside the room, her reflection on the large mirror facing her. Confirming her suspicions, on the shelves over the sink reposed an assortment of hair and skin products from expensive brands, scented oils, a clear bottle from his aftershave and an electric shaver.

_Briar would be so envious of this collection_, she thought.

“I should’ve live-streamed this! No one will ever believe this happened!” he said leaning against the doorframe and observing her.

“Oh, come on! She can’t possibly be that bad! I’ve seen plenty of cute pictures of you two!”

“Well, Leia likes me and pretty much nobody else. Since she was just this tiny kitten with fuzzy hair, she’s been close to me...” he smiled fondly at the memory, “She used to sneak into my bed and sleep with me every night, despite my mother’s protests.”

“It keeps getting cuter and cuter...” Elizabeth beamed at his reflection and dried her hands on a towel.

“_Anne_ will never believe she let you pet her right after you met...” he chuckled.

“…Who’s Anne?” she tentatively asked facing him.

“That’s how I call my mother.”

She lowered her head hiding the sheepishly smile that curled her lips at the notion of Hamid speaking about her with his mother.

“My flight is around 3pm. I’ll leave plenty of food for Leia, so you won’t need to come until Monday.”

“If you're sure... I don't mind coming here tomorrow. I can keep her company for a bit.”

“Only if you have the time. I know you’re busy with that essay...”

“It’s finished. I’m helping Briar with hers today, and I’ll just revise mine tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

Hamid stepped aside, clearing the path for her, however on the way out her arms encircled his, turning him around.

“Now, can we take a moment to appreciate this room?” She grinned. “It's so you! Did I say how much I love that wall?”

“Your face did.”

“Where were you in this photo?” she pointed at the one over his nightstand, as they moved closer.

“It was in Raglan, New Zealand. I went there with friends four years ago.”

“It seems beautiful.”

“It is. One of the most extraordinary places I’ve ever been. Longest ride of my life. Never have I seen those kinds of waves.”

“You look so different with the beard,” she said holding the frame.

“Do you like it?” the man asked grinning, a hand rubbing his clean-shaved jaw. “That’s my vacation look. No concerns about shaving or controlling my hair.”

She kept to herself that he looks good either way and would probably still look handsome even if he lost all his hair, and instead she said he looked happy.

“Everyone looks happier on vacations, Liz,” he said smirking, “specially in the pictures.”

“Weren’t you happy?”

“Oh! I was definitely happy!” he chuckled, “It’s not a secret travelling makes me happy... It’s the fresh air that saves me from dying of boredom...”

“Do you feel bored now? Here at London, I mean,” she asked, with a tentative voice and he hummed, observing the picture being returned to its place.

“Well... London is a very busy city. With exciting activities. And people to come back to... But… I’d be a liar if I said I haven’t considered the idea of moving to a new city... Or at least taking a few months off work and travelling...”

_I’m such a fool to think he’d tire of the nomad life he loves or settle for a boring bureaucratic routine at the embassy…_

Flashing him a half-hearted smile, she turned around and her gaze fixed at five bottles of perfume over the chest of drawers. Each bottle from a different brand, colour and shape.

“You have quite a collection.”

“I appreciate perfumes. I enjoy having different fragrances to suit different occasions, for warm or cold weather, that suits best daytime or night...”

“You give a lot of thought about this. I've got only two and I randomly choose between them each day.” She chuckled.

“I know.”

“You do?” Her head whipped back.

“I wasn’t sure you had only two... But I’ve noticed you alternate between two fragrances. Both have very similar floral notes.”

“They do?”

“May I?”

With her consent, Hamid pulled her hair back, providing a clear access to her neck, and leaned closer. His long nose almost touching her neck, and the warmth of his breathing fanning her skin elicited goose bumps and her heartbeat accelerated.

“I recognize orange, bergamot and vanilla,” he said softly, letting her hair fall back to her shoulder, moving away from her. “The other one has a stronger scent of vanilla and less citrus notes. Both are agreeable. But I prefer this one.”

“You know a lot about perfumes…” she trailed off._ And about me._

“Just a thing or two… I can teach you, if you like.”

When she accepted the offer, he stretched his arm and picked the green bottle. “For years, this has been my preferred choice for warm weather. You surely recognise it.”

He placed the half-empty bottle on her hands, and she read the name, before taking off its lid and sniffing it. She smiled. That was the same fragrance from when they met and from several other occasions ever since.

“Yeah. It reminds me of the sea...”

“That's interesting. It reminds me of spring days... It’s fascinating how aromas trigger memories and may be perceived differently.”

Pointing to another bottle, with the same professorial tone he adopts whenever he talks about his dissertation, he explained the differences between the two perfumes and why he’s changed to this one since the autumn days started getting colder, and her lips curled upwards observing him.

Next, he pointed to a sunset coloured bottle, and said, “This one is my favourite. Its notes are much richer and that's why I reserve for special occasions.”

“Are you sure it’s your favourite? It’s almost full.”

“Hmmm... I guess special occasions might be scarce these days...” he said, rolling up one of his sleeves up to his elbow, and sprayed once in the outer part of his wrist.

A citrus mist reached her nose, and she observed the way he shook his arm twice alongside his body. Even though she tried to focus on his explanation about the notes, her eyes were drawn to the warm olive skin of his arm when he raised it and brought it close to her face. While he explained about accords and notes, Elizabeth felt the world around muting.

Except for a few times at the club, when she watched him exercising in tees and battled her own eyes that craved to stare at his fit body, she seldom sees his bronze skin uncovered and never this close. Wonder and longing to explore every inch of that arm in front of her and learn if the skin is as soft and warm as his hands always feel against hers. She chastises herself for such unfriendly thoughts! Yet she can’t avert her gaze nor her hands to raise and hold his arm anyways. Pulling it closer with gentleness, she breathed in.

The considerations on how creating perfumes might be an underappreciated art, are interrupted by the sudden gesture, yet he smiles.

Feeling the aroma, her eyelids shut for a second. The perfume was the opposite of the ones he’s shown before; intense, but pleasant and sensual. Her mind was taken to a hot summer day by the Mediterranean.

Her fingers revelled in his warm velvet like skin, covered with soft hair. Opening her eyes, she noticed little details, like the way the slightly green raised veins on the back of his hand went up his arm, disappearing underneath his sleeve, and her thumb trailed one of them and caressed a lone dark spot near his wrist.

How long has he been silent? she wondered, when she raised her eyes and his mouth was still and his eyes were fixed on her hands.

Hamid must be aware that his friend was thirsting over a flash of his skin like she lived in Regency Era or something, and this thought alone caused her cheeks to blush furiosly. Her hands loosened their grip and she was about to drop his arm at once, when his mouth opened.

“Do you like it?” asked Hamid, voice lower and huskier, and she had no idea if he was referring to the perfume.

When her eyes found his, they locked.

“It’s very...” she paused, trying to find any word other than sexy inside her brain. “Intense,” she whispered against his arm and all the hair there stood on end. Feeling the pulsation under her fingertips, she asked, “Can you tell me more about the notes?”

He nodded and slowly relisted the notes.

“Bergamot.”

Staring deep into his eyes, she absorbed every word spoken in that unusual tone.

“Sandalwood.”

His tongue still listing names, and she wondered how he could speak. All the words she knows escaped her brain long ago. But what she desired the most didn’t require her tongue the ability to speak, anyways.

Ignoring the heat creeping its way to her cheeks and spreading all over her body, she didn’t step back when Hamid moved a little closer. His half-closed and bright eyes unwavering from hers.

“Nutmeg.”

Those eyes staring at her again with such intensity. Those eyes which are her weakness and the hardest obstacle on the success of their friendship arrangement. A friend cannot look at another like that! Like he’s searching for some unknown mystery of the universe in her eyes or some unspoken secret hidden in her soul.

On the other hand, she shouldn’t stare back at him like that either, as if she wasn’t terrified to get lost in those dark holes in which his eyes had transformed themselves again.

His free hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the back of his fingers touching the side of her face, and she drew in a deep breath.

Suddenly, the wide smile that’s parted his lips faded and his head bowed.

Her gaze was also drawn to the floor in time to see the cat bumping her head against his leg. A loud meow ringed, and she released his arm at once.

His chest heaved with a deep inhale, and his eyes followed his roommate leaping atop of the dresser.

“We got company...” he said, his voice carried a mix of relief and disappointment. 

Leia’s teal blue eyes fixed on him and a paw stretched at his direction.

“She probably wants food.”

Judging by his tone and how he avoided her gaze, when he told her he’d go to the kitchen, Elizabeth considered Hamid probably welcomed the interruption as much as she did.

Elizabeth and Leia trailed behind him, the cat trotting ahead.

“If you’re staying, I should start preparing lunch,” he said pouring the cat food on the container, while Leia repeatedly rubbed her whole body against his legs.

“Actually,” she peeked at the time on the oven’s clock, “I’m having lunch with my father today. He’s taking me to some French restaurant by the Thames that he adores. It’s supposed to have an incredible view of the City.”

“Oh! Okay. Send my compliments for his efforts on the negotiations Thursday. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.”

“You could send them yourself. Why don’t you join us?” She propped her elbows on the counter. “I'm sure he'd like to see you again.”

“I don't want to impose. He certainly wants to have some time alone with you,” he said peeking at the fridge’s content, while she went to the living room to pick her phone.

“Huh! That’s odd,” she said, reappearing at the door, mobile in hand.

“What is?”

“Sinclaire is coming too. Dad met him at some club thing this morning...” Her fingers resumed gliding on the screen with increasing speed. “Since it’s not only the two of us anymore, he definitely won’t mind if you come too. I’m texting him about it...”

Hamid closed the fridge’s door and his brows furrowed. “Are you sure your father is even going to this lunch?”

“Why wouldn't he, Hamid?” she asked without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Think about it: French restaurant with a view, at the last moment Sinclaire is joining you... It seems convenient, doesn’t it?”

“Dad meets Sinclaire quite often...”

Hamid took a deep breath, and pointed out, “Liz, he might be setting you and Sinclaire up.”

“No! He would never!” She put the mobile down and looked up at him. “I told him no matchmaking!”

Hamid tilted his head and gave her a meaningful look.

“Oh, my god! He totally would do it!” she covered her mouth, and her stomach churned.

“It's probably better if I don't go. I have things to do anyway…”

“No, no, no! Now you must go! I’m not going unless you are going!” she pleaded.

“No! I won't be the fifth wheel...” He waved his hands. “I have laundry to do. And cleaning…”

“Hey, you’ve just invited me to stay and have lunch!”

“There’s no free lunch, my dear. You’d be enrolled to fold laundry and vacuum the living room.”

She smacked him playfully, and he laughed.

“Please, Hamid. Please!” She grabbed his arm. “It will be too awkward! You know Sinclaire and I don't exactly get along…”

“Then why would he agree with it?”

“_Caraca!_” She clasped a hand over her mouth and started pacing in the kitchen. “He doesn’t know either! Oh, my God! He’ll probably freak out and walk away when he finds out!”

“He wouldn’t… Which man would just leave you alone at a restaurant? Have you seen you?”

“Aw, thank you!” She stopped and her eyes darted to his face, a sincere gratitude in her tone and smile. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”

Hamid smiled back at her, then his eyes returned to the cans on the cabinet. His hands grabbed one and he placed over the counter. Meanwhile, she resumed pacing and speaking with an upset tone.

“Ernest is nothing like you! He was rude enough to bump on me and never apologize! And he acts all superior and judgemental any time we interact. I’m certain he wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I don’t know, Liz…”

“Please!” She stepped forward and grabbed both his hands. “Won’t you feel bad for me, Hamid?” After a dramatic pause, she exhibited the saddest expression of her repertoire, the one that usually worked with her father when she was much younger, eyebrows knitted together and a pout on her lips, and continued with a small voice, “Knowing that your friend will be there all alone, sitting by herself, people looking at her, pitying her… There’ll definitely be crying, sobbing and makeup running down my face…” 

Inhaling deeply, he looked up at the skies, muttered something indecipherable under his breath, before his eyes met hers again. His tone was serious, but the corners of his lips twitched to fight a smile. “You’re going to make a great attorney one day, Lady Foredale. You already mastered the art of manipulation.”

The words prompted her to smile, a wide one, that wrinkled her nose, and she clapped her hands.

“So you’re going?” she asked for confirmation with undeniable excitement.

“After you guilt tripped me? Yes, I am,” he said shaking his head slowly.

“Oh, my god! Thank you!” she squealed and threw her arms around his waist, and the man laughed. Bubbling with enthusiasm, she continued thanking and praising him, “You’re the best, Hamid!”

Her face pressed against his chest, and she breathed his perfume; meanwhile, Hamid’s lips curled upwards and he pulled her closer into a proper hug, encircling her tight with his arms.

Elizabeth smiled against his t-shirt, feeling his chest move with his breathing, until the feline’s hungry cries, caused them to break the hug and they giggled.

“Like I said she’ll always asks for more food...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narghile – an oriental tobacco pipe with a long tube that draws the smoke through water.  
Quê? – Portuguese word that means What?  
Caraca – Portuguese word similar in meaning to words like fiddlesticks or shoot.   
Anne – Turkish word for mother.


	17. Chapter Fifteen - The Proposal (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.  
* Non-English words translated on the notes in the end.
> 
> * I want to thank @princess-geek and @noesapphic for being my betas on this chapter 💚

Being on her father’s company is always reason to rejoice, specially whenever the Countess is out of the picture. Elizabeth thinks as they walk arm in arm towards the family car.

“The entire week I looked forward for this lunch, and now I’ll have to compete for your attention with not one, but two young gentlemen…” the man shook his head but couldn’t hide a smile.

A playful grin crinkled the bridge of her nose. “You don’t have to compete, dad; you’re already the champion.”

“The cheekiness is hereditary after all!” 

Still laughing, the man opened the black sedan’s door and helped her inside. The driver confirmed the destination and as soon as the motor started, the name of Mr. Sinclaire flew from Lord Vincent’s mouth for the first and not the last time during the twenty-minutes’ drive.

Elizabeth took a long deep breath, hearing the praises on Sinclaire’s aid with legal matters, and not once she witnessed her father distribute this many compliments or speaking so fondly about anyone other than his children.

_Hamid was so right about this…, _she thought, avoiding her father’s gaze and letting her annoyance come out with a quiet huff. 

“For someone so young, his work is indeed extraordinary,” Lord Vincent concluded with a smile, trying to meet her gaze.

“So I’ve heard,” Elizabeth replied flatly, not concealing her displeasure.

“You could benefit from his expertise since you wish to be a human rights attorney.”

“I don’t know if that’s even possible anyway…” she said fidgeting with the zipper of her leather jacket, and pondering. With his hectic schedule, they’ve barely got the chance to talk these past weeks; and not speaking with her father is hard. At the same time, however, she feels awful for even consider disturbing him with her worries about the upcoming role as Viscountess or trivial matters as a silly rivalry at uni or a professor who might not appreciate having her as a student. Whenever they were together these past weeks, they’ve exchanged mostly pleasantries or news from the Parliament – or tried to, since the Countess’ constant interruptions, deeming every subject they picked unsuitable to be discussed at the table, posed too many obstacles on their attempts to hold a conversation. 

Her father stared confused, waiting for her to explain herself, and once she didn’t, he asked what she meant by that.

“With my duties as Viscountess… I…” she muttered, avoiding his gaze, “I don’t know what to expect anymore…”

Her father sighed and rubbed his forehead, a pained expression on his face. The work from the past weeks clearly weighting on him, an unconcealable tiredness on his expression.

“My dear, you won’t be asked to give up your plans,” he said softly, reaching for her hand, and she glanced back up at him. “Plenty has changed in your life in a few months time, and these responsibilities weight on your shoulders… I’ve been neglecting you, I’m aware of that. I suppose you have many concerns about the future, and I failed to assist you when you needed me the most –”

“You haven’t neglected me, dad…” she cut him off, “I’m not six and you’re busy.”

“It doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I promised your mother I’d take care of you and I’ll do better from now on.”

Eyes brimming with affection, he squeezes her hand gently, receiving a silent thank you from her. Despite his reassuring words, a heavy silent hang between them. His eyebrows knitted together, when he spoke again.

“Mother constantly reminds I should take the time to prepare you,” the man said at last, a grave tone on his voice, “She’s utterly concerned about Edgewater’s future.”

“She shared some of her concerns …” Elizabeth replied, refraining from repeating Lady Dominique’s words.

“I’m willing to teach you everything… But until the time comes, however, I might have a suggestion.” He locked his gaze on hers and smiled. “You could learn a great deal with Edmund. Why don’t you go to Edgewater with him? You could spend a day or two getting to know the estate better. Many things have changed over the years.”

Elizabeth let out a relieved breath when she heard the name suggested, and it was established she’d discuss the details with Edmund and take a few days during the break to learn about the earldom’s affairs. Lord Vincent seemed content with the arrangement; if compromises like these meant she could still pursuit her desired career, Elizabeth was content as well.

“Even though, Edmund has been doing an outstanding job,” Lord Vincent spoke in a low tone, “you cannot forget Edgewater belongs to the Foredales. You’re my heiress, and someday everything will belong to you… You will be the Countess when I’m gone.”

“I know,” she uttered, lowering her gaze. The reminder of his mortality left an unpleasant bitter taste in her mouth. Gnawing at her thumbnail, she considered Edmund’s concerns about his role; she’s certain her stepbrother is doing his best out of consideration for her father and not to try and replace the rightful heiress, as her grandmother repeats. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth again, “Dad, whatever happens, I wish Edmund always have a place at Edgewater. And in our family.”

“I’m glad you do. Edmund is my son and he’ll always be part of our family.”

“Have you ever told Edmund this?” Elizabeth questioned with a small tentative voice, “Or complimented him for the work he’s been doing?”

Her father’s eyebrows raised with surprise and it took a moment of silent consideration before he answered, “I’m positive he knows.”

Elizabeth covered his hand with hers.

“I’m sure he’d like hearing it from you, anyway…”

“I will keep that in mind, darling.”

********

A few moments later, the driver announced the arrival at their destination, and Elizabeth noticed a group of people standing on the pavement.

“This way, Eliza,” Lord Vincent said placing a hand on her back and waved at a few bystanders.

The metres separating the car from the building’s entrance turned into kilometres before her eyes, when she identified two men taking pictures of them. Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped and heartbeats accelerated. The grip on the clutch tightened and her gaze fixed on their feet, trying to match her father’s confident strides.

“It’s all right, darling,” he whispered, “Smile, if you like, and just keep walking.”

Reticent, she slightly lifted her chin and looked straight ahead. Unsmiling bright red lips pressed tight, while she breathed through her nose.

Once they crossed the threshold, she took a deep breath, fingers raking her long hair, while she pondered if she’ll ever get used to this kind of unwanted attention.

Pressing the lift’s door, Lord Vincent flashed a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry, dad… Paparazzi make me nervous… Sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t apologise, you did nothing wrong,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Remember: they are not here for us particularly… That blonde singer you like comes here often… and people far more interesting than your old father.”

Without meeting his gaze, she admitted, “I know… but… it is uncomfortable… how it seems everyone took an interest on me these days…” she trailed off and stepped inside the lift.

His hand rested on her shoulder, and his blue eyes tried to meet her green ones, while she bit on a cuticle.

“Are you referring to what’s been published this week?”

She wasn’t. 

The past few days, the British press published short articles about the meeting to be held between the Queen and the heiress of Edgewater, whose title would be officially bestowed at the occasion. Suddenly, a few classmates tried to befriend her, even if the week prior they sided with Felicity and ignored her when she was searching for a partner for a seminar, and Briar mentioned others posted pictures of her on _Pictagram_.

At least, none of those articles mentioned Hamid, and he was nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures issued. Unlike the Turkish press, the English tabloids had no interest on them, or maybe her grandmother’s contacts have taken care of this… Either way, Elizabeth was relieved about that.

She simply shook her head and didn’t elaborate an answer.

“Does this have anything to do with tabloids mentioning you and a certain Turkish diplomat?”

“Ugh! You’ve seen those?”

“Mother’s e-mailed me two, and I’ve found others online.”

Elizabeth groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry, dad! Grandma said we should not bother you with it when the first one was published… And… And Hamid’s family lawyer is dealing with it… Sorry.”

“Eliza, you did nothing wrong,” her father repeated slowly.

Elizabeth crossed her arms and walked outside towards the restaurant door. Before they got in, the man touched her elbow, and she stopped. A playful smile on his lips.

“Everything is all right. I assure you,” he said looking her in the eye. “I only ask of you to let me know in advance if you’re actually getting married in the winter.”

Lord Vincent chuckled and she shook her head, letting an unladylike huff escape.

“It’s just so ridiculous! Those photos… The lies… We’re friends! Hamid and I… And we must like… behave… I fear been observed and… It’s just… so… stressful… and tiresome…” she sighed. 

“Unfortunately, we are public people.”

A couple walked in their direction, and the Earl of Edgewater gently pulled Elizabeth to the side, next to a window, and observed her distressed face for a moment.

“I’ve been dealing with it for far too long to pretend it gets better or stops bothering you… If you ever feel threatened, we can hire a bodyguard.” Lowering his voice, he held her gaze, “However, if I may give you one advice: don’t alienate people because of this. Trust me. No public image is worth the sacrifice.”

“But grandma said that –”

Waving his hands, the man interrupted her.

“I’m certain mother means well… But as far as I’m concerned, no harm is done.”

“Well… Some harm was done… They divulged my name and where I study… And Hamid’s mother was super upset with the whole situation… She’s still not convinced he didn’t convert or got engaged without telling her.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said softly and observed her distressed face. “I’ll see what I can do about the articles. And regarding the other matter, you might consider mine a biased opinion, but any mother would be very fortunate to have you as her daughter-in-law.”

Lord Vincent smiled warmly, and his daughter lowered her gaze unable to hide the smile that reached her eyes. _How does he always try to see a bright side in any situation?_

As soon as they crossed the restaurant doors, the maître d. greeted them politely and confirmed the change on the reservations. The large clock beside him indicating despite the conversation outside, they arrived early.

While the men spoke, a masculine voice formally addressing her father by his title echoed behind them. Their heads whipped at the same time and their gazes found Ernest Sinclaire in a burgundy light sweater, with dark grey trousers standing a few steps away. Clearly, he’s already been waiting for them at the restaurant. 

“Ernest! There’s no need for those formalities. I’m pleased you could join us.” Lord Vincent smiled and they shook hands. The older man patting the shoulder of the younger one affectionately.

“Lady Elizabeth. Nice to see you again,” Ernest said politely.

“You too, sir,” she replied and fixed an insincere tight-lipped smile. _As if I ever have the choice of not seeing you…_

Ernest’s brows furrowed once the name of the fourth member of the party was pronounced by the maître d. to a waiter before escorting them to the table. His reaction caused Elizabeth to wonder if he disliked Hamid.

Hands on his back, the young man trailed behind them, taking small cautious steps; on his face, his ever so serious expression, that makes him seem older than his twenty-odd years. 

A waiter pulled the chair besides the floor to ceiling windows, and a wide satisfied grin curled her lips once she sat and contemplated the view. When her attention shifted to the table, she struggled to not scowl at the realization Ernest had sat in front of her. As soon as their eyes met, his gaze dropped to the plate in front of him.

Casting a disapproving look at her father adjusting his reading glasses, she pondered if Ernest was aware of his intentions and even more mortified than she was.

Turning to the side, Lord Vincent started speaking, “On our way here. I was just telling my daughter how helpful you have been with your legal advices, Ernest. These past few years you have been indispensable.”

“It’s been my pleasure, sir. I could never repay all I’ve learned from you over the years.”

“Father told me you advised him on the matter of the refugees’ crisis.”

“Indeed. It’s one of my major concerns and I was glad that is also on your father’s agenda.”

“You should tell her about the working program you recommended,” Lord Vincent suggested.

Ernest placed the menu back on the table, and just started explaining the proposal and the tax deductions, when he got distracted and his gaze fixed at the far left of the room.

Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to the same direction and she spotted Hamid dressed in the blue suit from the day they met, a light blue shirt underneath and no tie striding unassisted towards their table. When their eyes met, the wide teeth-showing smile on his lips mirrored on hers.

Reaching their table, the man cheerfully greeted her father, who offered his hand for a long handshake.

“I’m pleased to see you again, Hamid. Have you been introduced to Mr. Sinclaire?”

He confirmed and they politely greeted each other. Before releasing the other man’s hand, his eyes returned to Elizabeth and his smile widened, revealing his white teeth and dimpling his cheeks.

“Long-time no see!” he winked and took her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss on her knuckles.

The woman struggled not to blush, when his intense gaze returned to her eyes, and he asked, “How can you look more beautiful than when we parted this morning?”

“Flatterer,” she taunted, and he pulled the chair for her and whispered into her ear, “There’s no lie in my words.”

Tucking a curl behind her ear, trying not to be overheard, Elizabeth voiced over her shoulder, “You look quite dashing yourself.”

Under the attentive gaze of Lord Vincent and Ernest, Hamid thanked her and took the remaining seat at Elizabeth’s side after sliding the chair a bit closer to hers.

Noticing at last the eyes upon them, Elizabeth’s cheeks felt warmer and she looked down to her hands after meeting her father’s smiling face.

Shifting his gaze to the last invitee, Lord Vincent asked how he was doing.

“I am fine, sir. How about yourself?”

“Superb. Ever since my Eliza is here with me, I cannot find a reason to not be happy.”

The affectionate smile playing on her father’s lips gives her certainty of her choices.

Leaning forward, the lord added, looking at the man sitting across from him, “Though I might admit I feel jealous of all the time she spends with you.”

“Dad!” Elizabeth gasped and her hand darted to her face, covering a burning cheek. _Oh, my God! _

“I’m terribly sorry you feel that way, sir,” Hamid replied with an apologetic smile and a hand over his chest, returning the other’s banter, “But can you blame me if I cannot have enough of your daughter’s delightful company?”

Elizabeth looked away, hopping her cheeks didn’t look quite as red as she supposes.

Hamid sighed browsing the menu, and said softly into her ear, “A lot of things to stay away from.”

“Really?” she asked and scooted closer.

Soon they were reading from the menu on his hand and deliberating about the plates. With the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the man sitting in front of her. Quiet, Ernest frowned behind his own menu, and, from time to time, shot glances at her over the top of it. Hamid noticed it too, and his lips curled in a familiar manner.

After placing their orders, a waiter came and filled the glasses with their respective drinks, and Elizabeth sipped the white wine.

“What an extraordinary restaurant, Lord Vincent!” Hamid exclaimed excitedly, his gaze fixed outside. “I’ve never been here, and I am quite impressed. That view is astounding! Have you seen how the Tower Bridge seems magnificent from here?” he asked Elizabeth, who agreed and exhibited a similar smile.

A lingering touch on his arm, and she pointed at the tables over the terrace, which had a clearer view of the Thames and the City, and mused, “Can you imagine having lunch over there? Or dinner? With all the city lights on… It must be amazing!”

“I don’t think I ever sat there myself…” Vincent pondered, amused with the pair’s enthusiasm. “Sitting outside is something the tourists enjoy.”

“Well, I still feel a bit of a tourist most of the time…” Elizabeth admitted, flashing a timid smile at her father.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time, Eliza.”

“Me too,” Hamid whispered, and she casted a quick glance at him.

“I don’t see how the view could make the food more enjoyable…” Ernest mumbled, an unenthusiastic expression on his face, and took the glass to his lips. The first time he was joining the conversation since Hamid arrived, and Elizabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her friend, however, didn’t hold his tongue.

“A magnificent view and the company of a beautiful woman always make everything more pleasant, Mr. Sinclaire,” Hamid winked at him.

The remark wasn’t graced with a reply, as the other man simply took another sip of the wine and looked away from the couple.

Hamid hid a smirk behind his glass and, recognizing that expression, she looked at him. A wordless inquisition on her raised eyebrows.

“Your boyfriend is jealous,” Hamid whispered in her ear.

“Oh, shush!” Elizabeth tried to smack his arm under the table, and he grabbed her hand, trapping it against his thigh. They gazed at each other for a mere second, no words needed, and she didn’t pull her hand away or fight the smile that curled her lips, once his thumb caressed her skin.

The entrances came and he released her hand. 

In between bites, the conversation resumed. Hamid complimented Lord Vincent on his work and from that moment on, everything revolved around politics.

When a heated debate on the matter of the refugees’ crisis erupted, the lawyer vehemently criticized the Republic of Turkey’s approach on the matter. Every critique was responded by the diplomat, who maintained his composed demeanour – a demonstration of how he conducts himself during the negotiations at work, she assumed. On her turn, Elizabeth pursed her lips and bit her tongue. _Am I siding with Sinclaire on this? _

“Basic rights should not be denied by governments as a policy,” Ernest said matter-of-factly.

“No, they should not.”

“Finally, something we can agree on, Hamid,” Ernest replied.

“There’s always a first time,” Hamid said raising his glass and Ernest’s gaze shifted from the man to Elizabeth. “What do you think?”

“Me?” she gaped.

“By the look on your face, I’m quite certain you have an opinion on the matter,” he said, his blue eyes fixed on her.

“Unless we’re boring you, then you can pick any other subject,” Hamid suggested with a reassuring smile.

One deep inhale to collect the right words, and Elizabeth started, “I agree human rights should not be denied under any circumstances; and I don’t believe closing borders, ignoring sinking ships… or any of that will help solve the problem…” She paused and shifted uncomfortably on her seat, pondering on her next words, risking sound pessimistic. “But I’m not naïve, Mr. Sinclaire… I understand Hamid’s points… I know those are political decisions – even the UN’s actions and sanctions are political… And I’ve seen how the rise of conservative governments can change the focus of the debate… and use prejudice to manipulate public opinion…” she cut herself off, before she diverted from the topic, and focused on the glass on her hand. “The crisis requires collective responses.” 

When she looked up, there was something different on Ernest’s expression, and she averted his gaze, focusing on her father, who proudly agreed with her words and pointed the similarities with the situation Europe experienced at the time of the Second World War.

The waiters brought the main course and the conversation was replaced by enthusiastic comments about the dishes, and the clinking of silverware.

Using the fork to capture a piece of Hamid’s salmon, Elizabeth smiled coyly at him, before her mouth closed around the utensil, and he contemplated her fondly. When she poked another piece of the fish, his hand encircled her wrist before she could take a bite and brought the fork to his mouth. Their eyes narrowed with laughter, and only a breathed chuckle left her lips. Reminding herself where she was, her attention quickly returned to the plate in front of her.

“You’ve been here for a month,” Ernest started in a low voice, looking at Elizabeth. “How are you enjoying London so far?”

“I like it,” she said and sipped the water.

His eyes remained trained on her face and she put the glass down, considering it’d be politer to elaborate further. She raked her hair, pulling a few curls back. “…It’s better than expected, actually. I’ve made friends,” she said and couldn’t help looking at the man at her side. “And Hamid helped me find a place where I can swim, took me to one of the Brazilian stores…”

“Don’t need to thank me for any of that!”

“…and we cycle together at Hyde Park, which is my absolute favourite place here! It’s amazing how you can actually see the season changing from Summer to Fall!”

“I cycle there every morning,” Ernest said, “At seven o’clock sharp.”

_It’s surprising you hadn’t bumped on me there and not apologized, _she kept this thought to herself and the corners of her lips curled up.

“So… That’s it. Despite the cold, I’m enjoying everything else.”

“Cold?” Ernest echoed, “It is not cold.”

“I keep telling her that,” Hamid said amused.

“Hey! Check the weather forecast for Rio… Trust me, it’s cold!” Elizabeth giggled.

“I’ll trust you on that,” Ernest said, and his expression softened.

Lord Vincent put his fork down, his eyes were brimming with joy and a grin parted his lips. “You cannot imagine how pleased I am to hear you say that, darling,” he said looking at his daughter, “I wish nothing more than you to feel at home here.”

Smiling back at him, she mused, “To really feel at home, the one thing missing besides the beach is _feijão preto_.” Closing her eyes for an instant, Elizabeth moaned softly, and the men stared at her.

“Sorry?” asked Ernest.

“Black beans,” she replied. “Aw! It sounds so wrong in English!”

“Is _feijoada¹_ what you want?” Lord Vincent questioned with a puzzled look.

“No, same beans but without the meats. I like eating it with rice. _Mamãe²_ used to cook it until the broth was…” she snapped her fingers a few times, searching for the word.

Swivelling on the chair, her eyes met Hamid’s and his bemused expression. Lately, Elizabeth did it quite often, without thinking about it, she’d just look at him searching for help and most of the time he’d provide the exact word she needed. This time, when she didn’t find an answer, she settled for what her mind provided.

“… Thick like chocolate.”

Ernest asked confused, “Is it sweet then?”

“No… I was comparing the texture.” She smiled. “If you cook it long enough, the broth will be thick and dark and delicious. That’s how I like it.”

“Good to know,” Hamid said casually and sipped his coke.

Elizabeth’s hair whipped, and her rounded eyes focused on his face and the mischievous smile he hid behind the glass. Hamid looked back at her, a fake perplexed expression, “It’s good to know how you like your beans if I ever decided to cook for you.”

Lowering her eyes, she bit her tongue and took a piece of broccoli to her mouth, hoping nobody understood what he might’ve implied.

“Do you cook, Hamid?” asked Lord Vincent, silverware working on slicing a succulent piece of veal.

“I’m not humble enough to deny that I can cook very well. Meat is my specialty, and I make a killing hummus. But I can prepare a whole meal, dessert included.”

“Quite impressive!” the older man said with an approving grin. “Maybe you can have us over for dinner sometime.”

“It will be a pleasure, sir.”

“I can barely boil water,” Ernest confided her in a low voice.

_Did he make a joke? _Elizabeth considered his expression, and the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Maria tried to teach me how to cook,” Lord Vincent started, “But I was a disaster. After I almost burnt down our kitchen, she gave up…”

“She taught me too. I wasn’t a complete disaster, but I cannot cook like she did…”

With a wistful smile, the nobleman started telling stories about Elizabeth’s mother, and the meals she prepared when they lived together at Dorset.

“I see singing wasn’t her only talent,” Hamid stated when the other paused to drink the wine.

“Definitely not! Maria had many talents and could master anything she put her heart to do.”

“Like someone I know,” Hamid said casting a knowing glance at his friend.

“Elizabeth certainly takes after her mother…” the man said, looking at Hamid, “She also inherited the same talent of convincing me to oblige to her every whim. Beware.”

“You sound like I’m a spoiled brat…” Elizabeth shook her head, and her father chuckled. It was the most relaxed she’s seen him in many days, and her heart warmed.

“Have I told you about one time I visited you at Rio and Maria took me to that place… How do you call it?” he asked, staring at his daughter, “That open market… The one with food and dance from the region your mother was born.”

“Oh! _Feira de São Cristóvão3_,” she replied.

“That’s the one!” Lord Vincent’s face glowed reminiscing about the woman he loved. “Anyway, her mother convinced me to eat this dish… She said it was traditional and all of that… And let me tell you, when the waiter brought the food, I instantly regretted it!”

Elizabeth asked curiously, “What did you have?”

“How do you say it? Is it _buchada de bode4_?”

“Oh, my God!” She gaped, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Did you really eat it?”

“A bit,” he said, failing to keep a serious face. “Well… Only a bite!”

Elizabeth giggled, and Lord Vincent shook his head slowly and let out an unconcerned laugh.

“The smell was so strong and only after I swallowed, she told me what it was. Then I just couldn’t eat anymore.”

Paying close attention to the man’s narrative, Hamid asked, “What was it?”

“Goat’s viscera.”

The answer caused a chuckle to rumble on Hamid’s chest, that died on the fist pressed against his mouth, and Ernest forced a small smile. “…That’s an unusual dish… I don’t believe I could stomach it either, sir.”

“It’s not for everyone’s taste…” Elizabeth said softly, “but _Mamãe_ loved it.”

“She certainly did. She ate hers and mine! Then made me dance. I was slightly better at dancing than cooking, but a disaster still,” he beamed. “Maria, however, could dance beautifully. It was impossible to keep her out of that dance floor. It seemed every man wanted to dance with her.”

Reminiscences of those days of laughter and dancing _forró5_ with her mother and her friends flashed and blurred her vision. Fingertips brushing carefully to not smudge her makeup, she breathed deeply and pressed her tongue to the palate, trying to avoid her sentiments to spill.

Her father’s eyes were also glistening, and they shared a look of understanding.

When her hands returned to her lap, one of them was encircled by Hamid’s. He squeezed it gently and changed the topic, telling stories about the weirdest dishes he ever tasted. Ernest struggled to keep a straight face at each description, while Lord Vincent laughed and posed many questions.

“You couldn’t possible have eaten that!” Ernest objected.

“What can I say? I have an adventurous palate!” Hamid laughed and the other shook his head in disbelief.

For the first time, Elizabeth saw Sinclaire relax and even flash a timid smile while speaking to Hamid; weird as it might seem, without their grandmothers around, his company wasn’t so dreadful.

The attention of the group shifted momentarily to the waiter taking notes of their respective desserts, and Hamid shared how excited he was to taste the _crème brulée6_.

“How are you adapting to King’s?” asked Ernest.

_Oh, my God! What the flying fudge cracker, Sinclaire! _

The man seemed taken aback by Elizabeth’s reaction and the narrowed green eyes directed at him. Ernest’s mouth closed before his tongue could enunciate whatever else he intended, and the woman hoped the question could remain answered.

“Thank you for bringing the subject up, Ernest. I wanted to ask Eliza about university on our ride, but our conversation got diverted by other pressing matters…”

_When I was about to change my mind about you, mate!_ _Just a few more minutes… A few more minutes of chit-chat and that was it. But you had to bring this up?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Feijoada - a stew of beans with beef and pork popular in some parts of Brazil.  
2\. Mamãe - portuguese word similar in meaning to mum, mama; a term of endearment for mother.  
3\. Feira de São Cristóvão - it’s a huge market where one can found food, music and handicraft products from the Northeastern region of Brazil.  
4\. Buchada de bode - it’s a traditional dish prepared with goat tripe.  
5\. Forró - is a genre of Brazilian music that originated in Northeastern Brazil.  
6\. Crème brulée - a cream or custard dessert covered with caramelized sugar.


	18. Chapter Sixteen - A Good Fit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * English is not my first language.  
* All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Ernest Sinclaire closed the door from the study behind them. Streams of sunlight still bathed part of the room with a soft glow and drew long geometric shapes on the wooden floor.

Elizabeth took in the space and its modern decoration for a moment, very different from other parts of the Sinclaires’ residence she’s been on her last visits, and her eyes were drawn to the wall covered from top to bottom with different law books, before she sat down as suggested.

With a serious expression, the man took his seat behind the imposing wooden table, a silver pen in hand, and observed her turning off the mobile and returning it to the clutch.

“I am thankful you agreed to this interview promptly,” he said looking at her, “it’s Saturday and I’m aware you have other plans, hence I assure you, it won’t take long.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, “I texted my friend and told her I may run a tad late.”

Warm cheeks and a small timid smile curling her lips, Elizabeth spoke again and thanked him for the opportunity and admitted for the first time that she was considering asking him about the volunteering work with the asylum cases and that his presentation at King’s impressed her.

Hearing her statement, Ernest’s cheeks rounded for a moment, and he asked, trying to conceal a hint of surprise on his tone, “Were you really considering it? The volunteering?”

Elizabeth confirmed and he observed her for a moment, holding the pen closer to his face.

“That is positively a fortunate coincidence. Though, I hope it doesn’t disappoint you that this interview is for a rather different position. You wouldn’t work alongside the solicitors who handle those cases. At least not at first.”

Under her attentive gaze, Ernest explained the urgency to find a volunteer to temporarily take some of the tasks of a legal assistant who went on premature labour this week.

“Is she alright?” Elizabeth asked, interrupting him.

“Fortunately, Helen and the baby are doing alright.”

“That’s good.”

He offered a small smile in return and continued speaking, “The replacement was only expected to start in 6 weeks and until November 1st he is committed to another firm. Therefore, I must find someone to assist me in the meantime.”

The words made her heart accelerate and she drew in a deep breath before questioning him if the volunteer would work exclusively with him.

Ernest confirmed and asked a startled Elizabeth if she would be available to begin working part-time Monday and for the next four weeks. Unable to speak, she simply nodded the confirmation and her mind raced with thoughts.

_He can’t possibly want to work with me! How odd would that be?_

While he described the daily activities of a legal assistant position, she tried to focus on the explanations and chase away the thoughts about her quarrel with Sinclaire and of being underqualified for the position, specially considering a particular blonde classmate who is volunteering at his firm and is far more experienced than her.

_Why would Sinclaire even think of me?_

The answer to this question was obvious: her father asked him to do so.

Meddling runs in the family. This realisation caused her stomach to churn and her hands ran through her long hair a couple of times. She caught him staring at her, contemplating the evident nervousness. Then tucking some curls behind her ears she stopped and her hands returned to her lap to rest once more. One deep breath and she fixed a polite tight lip smile and focused on answering the questions posed about her previous experiences and studies.

After a few minutes of conversation, despite the stuttering, agitation and lack of confidence, the man in front of her looked down at his notes and seemed pleased with what he heard.

“That is everything I needed to know.” The corners of his lips turned up, and he concluded, putting the pen down, “I am convinced you would be a perfect fit for the position. And we could probably discuss a more permanent arrangement in the future. If you’re pleased with the firm and the work, of course.”

She frowned and dwelled if she should just refuse the offer, even though it was a good opportunity. Meanwhile, he observed her expectantly, a paper lying next to his hand with his secretary’s contact information written down.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” he answered with a small smile. “I am afraid it was an excessive amount of information to throw at you at once… So, ask away.”

“Why me?”

His lips parted with surprise and he mulled for a moment. “Why not you?”

The next words struggled to leave her mouth and she avoided gazing direct at him, “Because I’ve got no previous experience as an assistant… or anything related… and no profound knowledge of the English law system… that could make me… you know… stand out… So I can only assume my father asked you to do this.”

“I greatly respect your father’s opinions, Elizabeth,” he replied, trying to meet her gaze, “When we spoke this morning, your name came up and I took the suggestion under consideration.”

_Does he ever speak his mind? _she pondered, _Or is he just always oblige and does what he’s being told, like me? My father obviously dragged him to this lunch… _

“Be certain that I am offering you the position because I am convinced he was right and it would be mutually beneficial: you could learn a great deal and I am certain you would excel at the tasks.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know… to give me this job just to please my father. Especially if you don’t want to work with me.”

“I am perfectly aware of that,” he said leaning forward, hands intertwined, and a small crease between his eyebrows, “But why would I not want to work with you?”

“Well… because we’d have to work close… daily, I assume… and… talk to each other often…”

“I don’t understand how that could be a problem.”

“Well… Because you hate me!”

“Hate you?” Ernest grimaced and snapped, “What a preposterous idea! I barely know you. How could I hate you?”

Sinking on the plush chair, she pursed her lips and chided herself for saying that out loud, while his eyes tried to meet hers.

“Sorry about that,” he said apologetically, “but I cannot imagine why you would even assume that, Elizabeth. I do not recall being rude or unkind to you since we met.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. The awkwardness and the unpleasant conversation she was about to have, she brought it all upon herself.

“Well… I mean… you always look kinda annoyed… and… like you’re not really fond of me…” she started speaking, tentatively, and observing the man’s reactions to her words, “And there was the argument the other day… so I just assumed that you did. Hate me. Or at least my company.”

Looking confused at her, Ernest’s lips were pressed in a thin line and then opened while he probably searched for the appropriate words to address her and continue the clearly disagreeable exchange.

Elizabeth averted her gaze and felt like digging a hole on the ground, and she bit at her thumbnail.

“I assume you want to be an attorney someday,” he said at last, and she nodded. “Then you should get used to discussing ideas and working on having strong arguments to debate – which I know you’re more than capable of considering how well you expressed your ideas at lunch,” he paused and looked at her, and she stopped gnawing at her cuticle.

“However, during the conversation you referred to, I remember disagreeing with you because your argumentation was based on a wrong premise. I simply pointed that out and I am sorry if my intent wasn’t made clear. It was not a personal attack.”

“Wrong premise?” she mumbled, peeking at him.

Leaning forward, he explained calmly the problem of said argument using the same didactic tone from the lecture at the university. For the second time today, she agreed with him and started questioning her previous assumptions. Was he really that rude at the time or the whole matchmaking situation displeased her at the point of finding him insufferable just out of spite?

“…Death penalty would still be unacceptable even if we reached a flawless justice system, as you mentioned, which we never will. Then it’s unjust and incompatible with human rights all the same, and that’s what I probably failed to point out that evening.”

“At the time,” she said, eyes fixed on the hands intertwined on her lap, “You didn’t say it like this… You told me to read some book… and it seemed you just wanted to shut me up.”

“I simply suggested we continued the discussion some other time, because it was a rather technical subject neither our grandmothers could partake on. It would be rude to carry on and monopolize the conversation. Don’t you agree?”

She mumbled a ‘yes’ and they remained silent for a moment, averting each other’s gaze.

“I believe both of us had trouble enjoying those dinners knowing well enough the sole purposes of them,” he confided, shooting her a meaningful look.

“Oh! Then you were also annoyed with the matchmaking grandmas!”

A slight smile curled his lips, and he let a low chuckle escape. “Do you always call them that?”

A hand covered her mouth, muffling a giggle, and she didn’t confirm or denied that.

“I was certainly not annoyed by the company or the stimulating conversations.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“About what?”

“Against the matchmaking, of course!” she replied, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze, “Don’t you find it annoying how insistent they are?”

A muscle on his jaw twitched when he swallowed, and his blue eyes averted hers for a moment while he contemplated an answer.

“Even though it is dissatisfying to be forced to waste my time making idle conversation with people I barely know and do not care about… It pleases my grandmother. That’s why I oblige occasionally with her requests.”

“But if you don’t tell her, you’ll be forced to endure other dinners… You went to three only with me!”

“It wasn’t as dreadful as I feared…” he replied in a low voice, and there was no worry crease between his eyebrows. “Since it annoys you, perhaps you should talk to your grandmother. You can tell her how you feel about their interferences. She will comprehend.”

“Are you serious? Have you met grandma?” The words left her mouth as a high-pitched squeal, and she covered it with her hand.

The man’s face contorted, and he huffed trying not to laugh. Ernest’s face and neck have reddened, and he finally said with amusement, a hand brushing his temple, “I knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left my mouth. Sorry.”

“Your lawyer brain cannot help me on this matter, mate.” A laugh escaped her mouth too, and she leaned back on the chair. “It’s a hopeless situation! Grandma Dominique won’t give me a break on this subject anytime soon…”

“Perhaps you could tell your grandmother you already have a boyfriend and free us both from the inconvenience.” Elizabeth leaned forward confused, but he continued before she could say anything, “If I were Hamid, I admit it’d be challenging knowing my girlfriend’s family keeps setting her up with other men.”

“Oh, no! He’s not my boyfriend! We are just friends!”

“I - I’m sorry. You seemed very… close and I assumed… I apologise.”

“It’s okay. You’re not the first one to assume that,” she admitted it reminiscing about Hamid’s performance during lunch and about Bartholomew’s words at brunch this morning.

“Now that we cleared the air, can we start over and be civil around each other?”

“Of course,” she replied, “But I was always nice.”

His eyebrows raised, and he didn’t hide a smirk.

“Are you implying I wasn’t?”

“I would never say something this rude.”

“But you’re totally thinking, aren’t you?”

“I will exercise my right to silence,” he said amused and a genuine smile rounded his cheeks and uncovered a fraction of his teeth.

“…And here I thought you wanted a fresh start,” she retorted, feigning annoyance, but smiled too.

An instant later, the small smile disappeared from the man’s face, and the serious expression returned. “You deflected and still have not answered my question. Do you wish to fill the position or not?”

Crossing the foyer, Elizabeth did not see any sign of Briar. Her text said Arthur had let her in like he was instructed to and nothing else.

_Could she already be at the library? Why is she not answering my texts?_ Elizabeth wondered with the mobile in hand, when halfway to the staircase she heard a familiar sound. Following the snickers, she peeked inside the drawing room and spotted Briar sitting at the settee close to the windows, a flirty smile on her lips.

“…Maybe you _should_ tell me,” she said looking straight at a flushed Arthur Woods, who leaned and whispered into her ear, triggering another fit of giggles.This time he a low chuckle escaped his lips too.

Afraid to be prying into a private moment, Elizabeth stepped back. However, when she turned around, she stumbled on a small corner table. A vase with a tall floral arrangement was put off balance and rotated in its axis. Though she managed to prevent the vase’s fall, she failed to muffle all the noise she caused.

The room became silent. Feeling her cheeks burning, Elizabeth immediately apologised for the interruption. Arthur, now standing straight and looking as serious as he is supposed to whenever on duty, quickly excused himself.

“Thank you for keeping Briar company,” Elizabeth said softly as he walked past her, and he nodded and flashed a timid smile, that rounded his blushed cheeks. Before exiting the room, a last glance at Briar, who waved at him with the flirtiest smile she could muster.

“Don’t worry, Lizzy…” Briar said with a mischievous smile, interrupting the string of apologetic words coming from Elizabeth’s mouth when she sat beside her. “It’s actually nice you interrupted us. Now I’ll see if he builds the courage to look out for me and actually ask me on a date.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you and Arthur…”

“Maybe… who knows?” she shrugged and smiled to herself. “He’s different. Just cute and sweet. Like a cherry cupcake.” Noticing Elizabeth’s amused look, she smirked and changed the subject, “So, how was the fancy lunch with your father?”

“Good. But quite different from what I’ve expected. When I learned Sinclaire was joining us, I asked Hamid to come –”

“Sinclaire?” Briar’s eyes widened and her jaw almost dropped to the floor. “As in Ernest Sinclaire? From UK’s twelfth largest law firm? England’s Fifth most eligible bachelor? _That_ Sinclaire?”

“I don’t want to sound rude… But that’s kinda creepy.”

“Why? We rank everything!”

“I meant _you_ knowing all of that… you sounded like a stalker.”

“Some people follow sports, I follow celebrities.”

“Sinclaire’s a lawyer.”

“He’s got a glamourous lifestyle and is a regular at tabloids…” Briar pressed a hand to her chest and sighed. “You were not here back then, but after losing both parents, he went through a traumatic and messy divorce with that blonde vixen. Ugh! Everyone in England wished to hug him at the time… So, that’s enough celeb for me,” she said fishing her phone from the bag and typing frantically. “See. He’s still the fifth.”

Elizabeth peeked at the mobile, and Briar stopped typing and looked at her. “Why you never mentioned you were friends?”

“We’re more of acquaintances…”

Briar hummed and something caught her eyes on the screen, and she squealed. Before Elizabeth could ask what was wrong, she shoved the phone close to her face.

“There are pictures of you two on Twitter!”

“Already?”

“And you’ve made the list. Sixteenth. Kudos!”

“O quê?¹” Elizabeth gaped and tried to grab the phone from Briar’s hand.

“Oooh! ‘Brazilian hot heiress’… And you’re already three positions above Felicity Holloway! Look!”

Briar finally handed the device, and Elizabeth mumbled while reading. “_Caliente_?²” She grimaced and looked at Briar. “God! That’s not even a Portuguese word! Even if it were, it’s not one to describe me…”

“Don’t be modest…” Briar smirked. “You’re going to be on the cover of magazines and trend on Twitter from now on. Can you imagine?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath envisioning all of that and let out a quiet sigh. Reading the rest of the profile, she turned her nose up at some of the passages mentioning her good shape and her worth in millions of pounds, then stared at one of the pictures for a moment. She recognized it from the photo session planned by her grandmother a few days ago, and she shouldn’t be surprised that the woman probably arranged it in another effort to control her public imagine. Another occasion she preferred being consulted prior.

The mobile returned to the hands of its owner, who gawked at the picture. “Wow! You look gorgeous! That should be your every profile picture!”

Elizabeth thanked her but the non-enthusiastic look on her face didn’t escape Briar’s attentive eyes.

“Now tell me everything about Sinclaire! I never had a chance to actually meet him at the firm… How is he?”

“My usual answer is brooding and snobbish… But I guess I was wrong. Today he was actually really nice. After lunch, he interviewed me for a job. That’s why I’m late.”

“So exciting! What kind of job?”

Grinning, Briar listened attentively the explanation about the position. Pulling Elizabeth to a hug, she congratulated her friend, who mouthed a thank you and appreciated the genuine demonstration of affection. Briar’s sincerity is always refreshing.

“People will be so jealous of you at uni! Can you imagine Felicity’s reaction when she finds out?”

“I guess I’ll find out soon…” Elizabeth replied, pulling away from the hug.

Would being around the obnoxious classmate become even more insufferable? This rivalry is so pointless; and even though she’s not looking forward the tea her grandmother scheduled with Felicity next Saturday, she expects it will suffice to convince her to at least act civilized. 

The sun had long set, and the library was silent, while Elizabeth read Briar’s essay.

For the past two hours, they have been studying and the brunette was getting restless. 

Thirty minutes into the study session, after incessant texting with Luke and Annabelle, snapping photos of Elizabeth whenever a message from Hamid was received and an attempt to record a dramatic reading of passages of Professor Richards’ book for TikTok as the last straw, her mobile was confiscated and turned off.

Grimacing, Briar rearranged the books on the table and placed the one with the creepiest of Professor Richards’ picture at the bottom of the pile. When she finished, her long red nails rhythmically tap-danced on the wood.

The noise disturbed the other’s reading, and Elizabeth peeked at her from behind the laptop. Immediately, she stopped and mouthed an apology, and her friend told her impressions about the essay and advised about adding a few quotes from Richards’ book, like Bartholomew suggested.

“Do you have a recommendation, or any random quote will do?”

“Try something from chapter two of…” Elizabeth trailed off, eyes scanning the table. “Where’s the other book? The one with the weird photo?”

Sighing, Briar retrieved the book and grimaced at the picture before opening it on the chapter.

Elizabeth returned the laptop to her side of the table and glanced at the mobile vibrating. A wide smile curled her lips, and she picked it to answer Hamid’s texts.

“It’s not fair,” Briar sighed, the side of her face resting on one palm. “You keep texting Hamid and I can’t have my mobile. So not fair…”

“My essay is done. You can have yours when you finish too…” Elizabeth said, still typing, “…And you might want to know Arthur will bring the snacks any minute now.”

Briar beamed and put the pen down. “You asked him to come because of me?” A shy smile from her friend was enough to answer her question. “How sweet is that? You’ll make a better wingwoman than Ann…”

Obliging to her request, Elizabeth’s mobile was passed to Briar’s anxious hand. Contemplating her reflection on the screen, she held the black tube of her deep red matte lipstick. While the baton slid from side to side, her lips regained full redness, and she smiled; then her fingers ran through the long hair and fidgeted with the bangs. Still holding the mobile in front of her face, she smirked at the notification. “Another text from your _friend,_” she teased, returning the device to its owner.

Right on queue, a rapping on the door echoed in the room and Briar flashed a charming grin. The buttler walked inside with a tray, his eyes fixed at the brunette’s face and he offered a timid smile. At the end of the long table, Arthur arranged the meal at the empty space and was joined by the woman, who offered to help him.

Eyes on the mobile, Elizabeth pretended not seeing the way they spoke in hushed tones and Briar flirted with him, causing his cheeks to match the strawberries submerged in the infused water, which she knew was brought to please Briar again.

Bowing, he excused himself and left the room, and the two friends succumbed to a fit of giggles once they were alone.

“Everything always looks so yummy! And I mean _everything._” Briar clapped her hands with a sly grin, before picking a sandwich.

“You’re terrible!” 

The two ate and chatted, until the large clock on the room chimed repeatedly. Aware that Annabelle would join them for their girls’ night as soon as dinner was over at her parents’ house, their attention returned to the task at hand and Briar focused on finishing the essay motivated by the prospect of fancy drinks, sweets and face masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. “O quê?” (Portuguese) - What?  
2\. “Caliente” (Spanish) - Hot, sexy.


End file.
